Fairytales and Lullabies
by Doodlebug QT
Summary: He tilted his head as he looked me up and down in consideration. "So what might a little girl like you be doing out here at night, alone, with no one around?" He grinned that shark-like smile, showing off his perfect set of white teeth. "Does your father know you're out here all by yourself?"
1. Children's Work

**Authors Notes:  
This story occurs about a few years after the outbreak began. The group has been at Alexandria for about six years. Judith is a little kid by the time Negan comes into the picture. Just to clarify I prefer the comic Negan more than the show version. I will use various elements from both medias. Alexandria's borders are suggested to be much larger with a wider community than in the show version as is Hilltop, it seems. Although I did keep the forest around the town. I'll try not to switch between the two of them too much, but I can't make any promises.**

 **I'll also be mentioning a bit from other fandoms like Penny Dreadful, American Horror Story, Grey's anatomy, and several others. The majority of it will take place in the Walking Dead verse though.**

 **Warning: Strong language and violence.**

 **Just to be clear, I don't own the Walking Dead or any of the other fandoms.**

* * *

 **Fairytales and Lullabies  
**

 **Chapter 1  
Children's Work  
** _Sometimes being a child isn't easy, and it sure as hell isn't a piece of cake when you grow up in a world full of zombies. As Negan's army terrorizes their group, Judith feels pressure to protect everyone and take care of her family the best way she knows how; foraging, hunting and eluding the walking dead. But in time, Judith realizes there are things that only she can do, things that make her special in the entire world, and it'll either help her people more than ever or catch the interest some very bad armies._

* * *

 **The Prison Rose**  
When I was three someone told me that I was never born. My mother died on a rose plant inside a prison and my brother picked me from the buds and gave me to my father. That night I bloomed out of the flower. It was only until later that I realized that wasn't really true.

There _was_ a prison, but no rose plant, and my mother did die but it hadn't been the sort of beautiful death I sometime imagined, in the least. There was terror and agony and my brother _had_ really been there, but I came just as the rest of our species had come before, and a moment after that my mother left.

I was strange growing up. I could see things other people couldn't. I had a lot of friends and family. People came and left all the time, but one way or another they always came back to me. Once they left to other people, they were gone for good, but not for me. I saw them as often as they showed themselves to me. They were part of me, and they'd always stay part of me.

* * *

 **A Fascination for Witches**  
Once I started reading I grew a deep interest to books. Specifically fiction. Even more specifically fantasy. The first fantasy I ever read was a little picture book about a witch with a delivery service. It was traditionally a film from Japan but the creators had altered it into a translated illustrated story book, one of which I devoured every night over and over again as my bedtime story.

From that moment on I was fascinated with witches.

How did she keep her broom in the air? I had experimented with our own and I can say with certainty it sure didn't fly. Not only that it wasn't at all that comfortable to sit on.

I had so many questions, but the book didn't provide me with many answers.

It wasn't until my brother introduced me to another book that cleared some things up for me.

Harry Potter was a world I frequently visited, especially when I wanted to escape my own. At times though, it was hard to understand. I lived in neither the muggle world nor the wizarding world and as such it was curious and confusing when they regarded things like boarding school and trains and currency.

There were none of these in my world; no businesses or stores or public transportation—there wasn't even money, only a flimsy barter system. My world was a bubble around our town. Sometimes people went out and came back, but it was too dangerous for someone like me. Children were not allowed out beyond the boundaries of the iron walls. Always kept safe, always kept hidden, those were the rules for us. As one of youngest members of our town, if I did go out, it was with a capable adult skilled in fighting and escape. No exceptions. I can count the number of times that that had happened on one hand.

Sometimes when people went out, they didn't come back. Other times they came back, but they were changed. They were different. They laughed less. They talked less. They cried more. They hurt more.

That was my life. That was my world.

The only connection I had was what people brought back. Once my brother had returned with an entire box of books. As I rooted through them I came upon an encyclopedia of five thousand actual spells. My excitement soared at the idea of them and I asked if it was okay to keep it.

Carl had no use for it and no one else seemed all that interested in that sort of thing so I became its proud new owner.

I remember reading it with gusto but was surprised to learn the spells weren't exactly like Harry Potter's brand of magic. Even so, magic was magic and I could already sort of understand that there were different kinds. Maybe this was just a special brand for muggles to learn.

I began practicing some of the little rituals and recipes; the ones that mostly brought good luck and sweet dreams. In my opinion, those seemed to be greatly needed for our little town. No one discouraged me. I think they wanted to give me something to believe and hope for, and if it made me happy there were no objections.

So I continued the practice, learning them like the little prayers and blessings from Father Gabriel's sermons. He was the only one who really disapproved of the magic, saying it was against god's law to follow witchcraft and such pagan beliefs.

"She's not hurting anyone with it." My dad announced to Gabriel. He rarely spoke his own opinion about my interests with these things, but when someone spoke their disapproval of something that seemed so harmless is when he stepped in. "There are worse things she could find as a hobby and she'll probably grow out of it someday. But for the moment it makes her feel better about things, so I'm not going to judge or interfere with it, and neither will you or anyone else."

It was the last anyone said anything about it so I continued the practice and did not grow out of it.

* * *

 **Identity**  
"Maggie, do you know how to cut hair?" I asked the woman one day a few weeks after I turned six.

"Well enough. I used to cut my sister's hair." She announced with a somewhat sad smile.

"Will you cut mine?"

"You want to cut your hair? But it's so pretty when it's long like this."

"I know but Carl found me a really good manga and I've decided I want to have hair like the girl right here." I held up a book to her with a picture of a little girl with short blond hair and a side ponytail. "Do you think you could do something like this?"

"Hmm… looks easy enough. Yeah I think so. I'll go get the scissors."

I went to wet my hair while Maggie gathered all the things. She was waiting for me when I met her in the kitchen and was instantly ready to wrap me up in the towel provided. She snipped the scissors and the hair fell away. "It'll be different to see you with short hair." She announced filling the silence with chitchat rather than mere occasional snips. "You look so much like your mom with long hair."

"I know." I said somberly. "That's why it needs to be cut. Every time Dad and Carl look at me, they're sad."

My words threw her off and she paused probably thinking of her own memories of my mother. "So why do you want your hair to look like a comic book character?"

"Not a comic book; a _manga_ ," I corrected. Only six and I was already annoyed by the ignorance when people didn't see the difference. "And her name is Hibiki."

"Alright, my bad. Why do you want to look like Hibiki?"

"Her hair is cute, and she can do magic and I like the kind of person she is. And it seemed like an easy enough hair style to copy."

"Good enough answers. What's the comic—I'm sorry, _manga_ about?"

"Well Hibiki lives with a magician as his assistant, and he's teaching her how to use magic, but she's not very good at it. She messes up and she loses her nerve. Her master does in magic circles. It's where he draws a special circle on the ground and it has some kind of magic charge. But in that world magic always comes at a price. Sometimes it takes people's memories, sometimes it takes their youth, sometimes it even takes a bit of their life away."

"That sounds awful."

"Sometimes it is. But Hibiki tries to make a magic that doesn't need a price like that. I'm not sure if she manages it though, because I've only got two of the books and she didn't get that far I guess."

"That's too bad." She finished with the last snip and began drying it with the hair dryer.

"Yeah it is but I can always imagine what happened. That's not so bad."

"I suppose, though it would have been nice to know for sure how she did it."

"Yeah, but sometimes that's just how things are."

She was quiet as she put the side ponytail in my hair, taking the extra effort to floof it a bit. Once done she angled a hand mirror around to let me view her work.

"So… what do you think?"

"It's great!" I announced happily, touching the lochs experimentally. I didn't quite look like the girl on the cover but there was nothing I could do to change my face. Thankfully the new hairdo improved the resemblance and that satisfied me.

* * *

 **Rejected**  
It was hot. I was finished with my chores and eager to spend this time reading up with one of the new books my brother had found for me. Normally I chose to read on the porch but today I was eager for a change of scenery. Absently I looked out over the line between the surrounding wall and the trees. A steady wind blew up bringing with it a tune that sang to me. I was never allowed outside the fence but I could hear it calling even so, like a whispering friend.

I tried to stamp down on the desire to sneak out, despite common sense. Instead I looked towards the main gate and spotted Natasha pacing in her lookout perch. A stab of longing pierced me and I ran up to the perch hopefully.

"Natasha? Can I read up there with you?"

She glanced down, uneasily. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

"I promise not to jump and I won't be loud." I held the book to my chest. "I'll be good. I promise."

She paused. There hadn't been an accident in months and bad things rarely happened on the lookout. "…Alright. Come up, but don't make a ruckus and don't distract me."

"Alright." I shambled up and made myself comfortable on the side, swinging my legs back and forth between the gap as I looked out over the trees. It was such a pretty spot.

"What's your book?"

"Island of the Blue Dolphins."

"What's it about?"

"A girl who's stranded all alone on the island of her ancestors after all her people leave."

"I think I must have read that when I was younger. I sort of remember a book like that growing up."

"It's good. I like it."

I swung my legs back and forth as I read, but then the activity of several gathered walkers below engrossed my attention. I watched them for a moment, curious how they seemed to reach more for Natasha than me even though my legs kicked back and forth, which naturally should have attracted them more.

"Why do they like you and not me?" I asked the woman.

She looked at me. "What do you mean?"

"Sit down." I instructed. "The way I am, only over there."

"You know I can't move from my post. I need to be on the ready."

"Well then wave down at them." She didn't want to. "Come on. They're all the way down there and they can't hurt us."

She hesitated but eventually stepped towards the edge and whistled down at the six surrounding walkers. They all looked up at her, coming towards the edge and stretching towards her in hunger, attracted by her sound and movement. I continued to swing my legs over the edge, but none of them so much as looked towards me.

"I'll be damned." Natasha said in awe. "How are you doing that? Do you have something on you?"

"I don't think so."

She looked uneasily down at the herd. "Why don't you go back down and read somewhere else."

"Awe, do I have to?"

"Yes. Go find your brother and see if he needs any help with his chores."

"Okay." I climbed down from the lookout and went back to my house, putting the odd exchange out of my mind as I skipped off.

* * *

 **Wolf Attack**  
I remember the smoke and the screams. I remember the wild men and women as they broke through the fence and rampaged through the streets of our town. I remember my brother coming into my room and telling me to stay inside and away from the windows. I remember him cocking the gun and pointing it at the door of my room, prepared and ready to use it on anyone we didn't recognize.

We stayed like that for hours, listening to the screams outside and smelling the smoke as our fields and supplies burned. Finally a knock came from the door and our father was outside telling us it was alright to come out again.

When we stepped out the door of our house we surveyed the land and saw tall buildings as mere rubble. Our fields were only ashes now and our food was greatly depleted. Aside from that there were bodies piled high and everyone walked as if in a daze, staring at the work we put our hearts into reduced now to nothing in a matter of moments.

It was terrifying for anyone who could understand it. Winter was on us and we had nearly no supplies to face it with. There was nothing.

* * *

 **Negotiations with Hilltop**  
People whispered here and there about a newcomer in town. Dad and Daryl had met him on a supply run and there was talk about opening trade with another town.

"We'll have some good food in a few days." He told me, patting my head as he loaded into the RV with my brother and several of our best fighters. "I'll be back soon and we'll have dinner again, alright honey?"

I nodded. These days my tummy was always aching for food, but I knew better than to complain. _Everyone_ was really hungry. I had to keep that in mind.

But just as he promised, he was back the very next day with fresh food and I grinned large and bright as I hugged a whole ear of corn to me in excitement.

I couldn't wait to have a real dinner and that night I was full for the first time in weeks.

* * *

 **The Outpost Attack**  
A few days after Dad had traded with the group known as Hilltop he and our best fighters went out once again to fulfill the services they promised in exchange for the food we'd been given.

But when he came back there were ghosts on everyone's faces. I saw men and women I didn't know lined up behind them all and an overwhelming shadow of fear dropped over me as I studied these strangers. Then the wind blew through them and carried them away to whatever final destination was waiting for them.

I knew without asking that those spirits were dead because of my family, but I never asked them why.

* * *

 **The Ambush**  
Maggie was in pain. That was the only thing I really understood about what was happening to her. She was in pain and agony. Something to do with the baby, is what I could gather. Something was horribly wrong with her baby. I was scared and didn't know what to do as she cried for me to run and get help. Sprinting from the house I found my dad and told him, with tears in my eyes about what had happened.

He and a few of the others looked her over, but none of them were doctors. The only place we knew that could help her was miles away. Dad told me not to worry though as he and Carl loaded up with the young woman into the RV and set out for the other town.

I put it out of my mind for the rest of the day, convinced that they were all sure to come back good as new.

But that same night after my father left to take Maggie to the doctor in Hilltop, accompanied by our strongest fighters, I woke up feeling there was something deeply wrong.

I remember it so clearly.

I got up and walked downstairs, not sure what was calling me. When I opened the front door the sight of Glenn's back sitting on our porch was what greeted me. Right then I understood what had happened.

Silently I went and took a seat beside him.

We said no words but I knew he was no longer alive. He looked like how Hershel and Beth looked. He looked like how my mother looked.

He looked better than this world had left him in. The laughter was back in his eyes. The jokes he had carried long before I knew him were back. This was the real Glenn; the one that still had his parents, that hotwired a flashy red car, the one that delivered pizzas and joked with the customers to be rewarded with a large tip for the service. But it was also the one that fought to protect Maggie, wrestled away from a hundred walkers with nothing but guard armor out of an overrun prison, went back to save one who had stood with the invading force, and fought and sacrificed and bled and cried countless times for his family—for us.

He was all of them, and none of them. The heartache wasn't there, neither was the pain, the fear, or the sorrow.

He finally looked over at me and smiled. Then he turned and my gaze followed his. Across the street from our house was Abraham.

He wore a sharp navy blue military suit and he wasn't alone. Beside him stood a woman I'd seen before and two children; Ellen, AJ, and Becca. I had talked with them once before.

Abraham's chest puffed out in pride as the woman took his hand and the children took each of theirs. No one said a word as they turned and walked down the street, a smile gracing all their faces.

They walked away and didn't come back. Abraham had moved on. I wouldn't see him again in this life, but it didn't sadden me. He was happy.

But Glenn didn't leave. We sat together all night, watching the sky and counting the shooting stars that shot by. The next morning Gabriel found me curled on the porch. Glenn was gone this time and a horn was blaring in the distance outside the walls.

* * *

 **Broken**  
When my father came back that day, I did not recognize him. His face was not harmed and his body was intact, in a sense, but his spirit was greatly broken. His life-force had been drained and what laughter had remained in his eyes before he had left, was all gone.

They were _all_ greatly changed. No one laughed. No one smiled. My brother himself walked as if lost.

And there were fewer of them than there had been.

Abraham and Glenn I knew were both passed, but additionally my uncle Daryl himself was now missing from the group.

My fears for him were more than the fears for the ones dead and I clearly remember running to my room to cast a spell of protection for him.

The next few days were strange. Everyone was scrambling to gather supplies but nobody would tell me why. In that time I was instructed to stay out of the way. No one wanted to play with me or read. There was a heavy burden on my father's shoulders quite suddenly, one that made him jump and panic at the slightest noise. I could not bring myself to ask what it was, even to the others, so I occupied my time in searching for Glenn.

Normally the spirits were fickle and came and went at their own discretion, but Glenn… there was something wrong with him. He was… _injured_ wasn't the right word. I don't know. I didn't understand. So I consulted Hershel.

"Glenn's spirit is being haunted." He told me.

"Like a ghost?"

"In a way."

"But _he's_ a ghost. How can a ghost haunt another ghost?"

"It isn't something dead." He said. "It's his murderer."

"A walker?" It was the only thing I could think of that would want to harm him. There were already so many people who had been killed by them so it would make sense.

"No. Something worse." The old man explained looking out at some distant point through the window. "He can't move passed it. He's afraid. I've tried talking to him but there's something coming that terrifies him more than anything else."

"Can I help him?"

He looked at me and for the first time I remember trouble in his eyes. "I don't know."

* * *

 **A Warning**  
"Michonne, why is everyone scared?"

The behavior of the town lately had set me on edge and my dad wasn't talking or looking at me much for some reason. Not even my brother wanted to talk. So I consulted Michonne about my concerns, confident that she would give me a straight answer.

Solemnly she knelt to the ground and looked me in the eye, staring at me with urgency as she held my shoulders firmly.

"Judith, some very bad people are coming here." She said simply. "All you need to know about them is that they are bad men and they will hurt anyone to get whatever they want, including you."

"Did they hurt, dad?"

"Yes."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Yes."

I looked away. "Will Glenn and Abraham's murderer be there?"

She looked painfully sad and could only nod.

"Your father wants you to stay hidden when they get here. You can't come out until they're gone."

"Why not? I'm not scared of them." I announced boldly.

"These are men you _need_ to be scared of, Judith." Michonne urged.

"Are you scared?"

She didn't answer, but her silence spoke volumes, setting me immediately on edge. If these people were enough to make this strong, powerful woman afraid, then they really were bad people. They were bad people and they were coming to hurt my family. They were coming to hurt my father—again! They were the reason he was broken and terrified! They were the reason Glenn's spirit couldn't be at peace!

And they were coming here!

I couldn't let them do the same to the rest of the people here! I couldn't! I needed a plan. I needed a spell to keep everyone safe.

A powerful spell!


	2. Untouchable

**Chapter 2  
Untouchable  
**

Under the light of the waning moon I slipped outside and did something stupidly dangerous.

I had caught my brother using the blind spots of the wall to climb over and escape into the forest with Enid sometimes. I wasn't sure where they went and it wasn't all that important. I just needed to borrow his route for this one time.

It was hard.

The iron walls were tall and I couldn't see the grip hooks on the bars very well. Plus I was a lot shorter than my teenage brother and the holds were further apart… and I was carrying a bag. I skinned most of my hand climbing over and cut up my legs trying to shimmy down. I was clumsy in jumping to the ground and twisted my ankle, not severely but enough to make walking uncomfortable.

I wanted to cry at the sight of the blood on my hands, but I held those tears back. Dad and Carl both suffered far worse injuries than these little scratches. I aspired to be like them when dealing with pain, and if they didn't cry from those wounds I wouldn't cry from these, because I _needed_ to make this trip.

Praying hadn't helped much before, but maybe spells would work where those all hadn't.

Working under dark, for those who've never tried, is difficult enough, but when you're six, it's utterly impossible. I wouldn't have done it but I had read that it was a powerful spell and I had worked for two days to find everything I needed. We already had so little and everyone was gathering things for something else so supplies was limited and most of what I had gathered was taken on the sly. I hated using stolen goods and feared my spell may be compromised with the weight of the crime but I couldn't think about that now.

When I found a decent clearing, I took out the supplies I'd gathered and began my work. Using a small flashlight I scoured the ground for fallen leaves not dried up yet, and folded the hem of my shirt to gather them in. When I had around fifty of them I took a marker from my pack. For every leaf I had found I wrote the name of one person from town on it. Earlier I had asked Michonne for a list so that I could cast spells to protect everyone individually. She had teared up when I asked it and I delivered the list to me without question.

With everyone's name, including my own, on their individual leaf I organized them in a wide circle with the petiole of the leaves touching the tip of the one next to them like joined hands. Inside the circle I put my charm bracelet, arranging it in a smaller circle and inside that I put a white candle which I lit.

Then around all of it I drew a larger circle that I stayed inside myself.

The waning moon shone high and I clasped my hands, closing my eyes tight in prayer.

"Three times the rings go round All evil shall stay on the ground If any evil is near this place It cannot harm those in this space Three times three So mote it Be!"

I repeated the spell twice more and when done I sighed, finished with the spell and hoping dearly it had worked. The wind blew and I opened my eyes, but it made me wish I had kept them closed the next minute.

My gasp sliced through all other sound as I stared at the previously empty space. My heart pounded in my throat and it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

Surrounding me in a perfect circle, were dozens of walkers, of which I was certain were nowhere near this place before I had chanted the spell. Their sunken eyes stared at me in hunger and their moans filled the silence. I was frozen in sheer terror, certain that this would be my last moments alive before they pounced to devour me whole.

Clouds moved in front of the moon and the wind blew out the fragile flame of my candle in a soft and subtle, PUFF!

…And then the world was black and cold.

* * *

 **Invasion**  
My head spun. My mouth tasted bad and there was drool dripping from the corner of my lips. My body was twisted up in an awkward sleeping position and I was cold. Sluggishly I lifted my head and stared through a dozen or so leaves sticking to my face.

Blearily I looked around my surroundings, wondering what had happened last night. I spotted the candle and the circles I had made from the dirt, the leaves, and my bracelet and everything came flooding back.

The spell! Had it worked?

And the walkers!

Oh no, the walkers!

I should've been dead. I should have bite marks and blood pouring from every inch of my body. I should be devouring and biting and savage the same as any of those other undead monsters. But I wasn't.

I was alright.

Moaning interrupted my thoughts just then and I turned to see a walker trudging straight towards me. I scrambled up, tripping over my own feet as I backed against a tree in horror, thinking that if I wasn't dead, I would be shortly.

My arms flew over my head, prepared for when it would fall to bite and chew me up till my blood painted the ground. But it only hobbled passed me like it hadn't noticed.

"Huh?"

I looked back at it in confusion. What was that about? Did that mean—OH NO!

Was I already dead? Was this what undead life was like? I was probably dead; a spirit wondering around without a body. I'd meet Hershel and Beth and Glenn and Mom and all the rest very soon.

Oh no please don't let me be dead! It would kill my Dad! Absolutely kill him if I was dead! I didn't want him in anymore pain. I had to take care of him and I could only do it properly if I was alive—alive so I could touch and talk and hold him!

In the time it had taken me to get thoroughly panicked, I realized this wasn't how I should have felt. Hershel and Dale and everyone else could testify to that. I didn't feel much different than how I normally felt. I looked down at my hands in observation; they were scratched up, but looked healthy enough from my perspective. Not shrunken or gnarled like regular walkers. So maybe I wasn't dead after all.

No. I wasn't dead.

Just then the sound of horns and large engines drew my attention. I turned in the direction of the road and realized the bad men Michonne had told me about were on their way. I scrambled to grab my charm bracelet from the ground and sprinted towards the wall.

This time was harder to get over than it was the first. My body was stiff from sleeping in that awkward position all night and the footholds were harder to find than they were before. Thinking of it now I'm not sure how that could have been.

Maybe I was just panicked, compared to last time when I was climbing over calmly. I ended up ripping the right knee of my pants as I swung my legs over. Added to that, I slipped and landed the last few feet roughly on my back scraping my elbows pretty bad and winding me enough that I couldn't move for at least a minute.

I breathed carefully, inching back to my feet. I limped my way home only to stop as someone else stole my attention.

I saw Glenn, or rather, Glenn's back as he skidded into the garage of a nearby house. Curiously I followed him. Once inside I saw him holding his head in anguish.

"Glenn?" I asked tentatively entering inside.

"It was him." He whispered, raising his head and staring down at his hands. "He's here; the one that did it. I'm dead and I can still feel it. I can feel what happened. And Maggie… she was there. Oh god she saw it all. And the baby! Our baby!" Then he turned towards me. His face was at first normal, but then it began to change. It was peeling away, like paint peeling off of walls after years and years of neglect. It peeled away, blowing in some imaginary breeze till his head was all gone and he fell to his knees. His body slowly began peeling away as well, in a large cloud of ash.

"Glenn?" I knelt with him, reaching towards his shoulder still crumbling while he sat hunched and holding his vanishing head. "I want to help you. How can I help you? Please, talk to me."

"Hey!"

I jumped and saw one of the intruding men in the doorway. "Out kid!" He barked. "We're taking it from here."

Glenn had vanished from me when they came bursting in. Skidding to my feet I dodged out, cautious and careful about whom I met. I made it to the streets and saw dozens of groups of people, all strangers, combing through every home and taking anything that wasn't nailed down.

My thoughts turned back to my friend, worry freezing my blood solid.

Glenn wasn't gone, that much I knew. He was still lingering, but he was in hiding. He wasn't going to come out until the danger had passed. Sometimes souls that died so violently can't bear the sight of the ones that took their lives. Sometimes the living haunted the ones they killed. And until the threat was long gone I couldn't search to console him.

Just then I turned to see my father and a man I didn't know speaking with one another outside one of the apartments.

It could only have been Negan, the warlord that had hold of us all, the same man that Dad had spoken to everyone about.

It was the first time I ever saw him. He smiled in a way that looked like he owned the world and walked with all the competence of a drunken man. I hated him immediately.

My father looked cowed near him while Negan and his goons strutted around Alexandria with an arrogant swagger that made the blood boil beneath my skin. Dad had wanted me to stay hidden during their visit but I decided to follow the two of them; watching this enemy to study his moves.

I followed a path that kept their backs always towards me and yet still within earshot of what they discussed.

The more Negan talked the more my hatred for him grew.

I saw Daryl as well but he was not how I knew him. He wore a dirty sweatshirt and matching sweat pants with a giant letter A spray painted on the front of it; so different from his winged vest and sleeveless button-up shirts. When my father had tried to speak with him Negan had shut them both up abruptly. None of us were allowed to address him and vice versa. Suddenly I remembered something as I dug in my pocket. It was a squirrel button I had found for him.

Long before all this we had talked about the charms on my bracelet and I told them how each one represented someone dead.

I picked through them, telling him about each, I had even found one for his brother Merle. Everyone already knew I saw things like that. People we had lost, people I had never even met and no one had spoken about with me. Sometimes it scared people, sometimes it upset them, but there was the rare moment when it would give them hope.

I had chosen a fishhook for Merle, and Daryl had asked if it was because he lost an arm, but I hadn't even known. They always appeared whole to me. Any limbs lost in life were restored in their spirits. I chose the fishhook because when I had seen him he reminded me somehow of a big alligator and the hook was to represent that.

I told Daryl that I had found a charm that reminded me of _him_ a few days ago as well and I pulled out a squirrel button to show off.

"I'm not a _squirrel_!" He announced when I showed him the trinket.

"Yes you are." I argued. "Squirrels are fast and can escape easy and they have really good aim for throwing things at people, and they're smart foragers and they love the forest and the trees, just like you. There's nothing wrong with being a squirrel, Daryl Dixon."

He had been quiet after that.

"I thought about finding an arrow head for you, but the squirrel felt best."

That memory had taken place one year prior. I still had the squirrel button but I had a feeling it may have been needed somewhere else.

While everyone seemed occupied after a gunshot split through the air, I snuck up behind Daryl, tucked it discretely in his hand, and dodged away before anyone had noticed what had happened.

I continued to watch from a safe distance, keeping out of the radar of the strangers but always keeping my father in sight.

I tried to memorize the truly horrible ones, for future reference. Like the ones who took all the guns, the ones who took all the medicine, the ones that took Olivia's favorite chair, the one that teased Enid, the ones that took all the mattresses and the ones in _our_ house namely. I made myself remember them all.

But I made myself remember Negan the most.

In all honesty, I really didn't want to; I wanted to forget it all, like a bad dream, but I made myself remember. I made myself look. It was important for when I would help crush all of them. I wanted to remember every one who would get what was coming to them eventually.

* * *

 **To be Strong like Thunder**  
I turned round the corner of our hallway and caught the sight of my dad arranging some sheets and blankets on the floor of his and Michonne's room. Without the bed and mattress it looked bare and strange. At the sight of him, my anger for the Saviors melted into pity. Dad looked so broken.

He saw me lingering in the doorway just then and paused.

"Did… did you need something, honey?"

My mattress was gone, too, though they at least left the blankets. I knew he felt worse than I did but I didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so I just came over and took a corner of the sheet he was arranging to help him spread it out.

"We could make some hammocks." I offered shyly as we spread the comforter out.

He paused and looked down at me. Then for the first time in that long weary week, I saw him manage something of a sad smile just for me. "Yeah… we could couldn't we."

"I've seen knot beds, too, in pictures from a book." I added positioning a pillow on Michonne's side. "They hammer a big wooden box together and then tie a net into the frame and people lay down on it."

"That's a really good idea." He said softly. He knelt there for a moment and observed the finished progress of our work. It looked weird and sad, but neither of us commented on it. It was quiet for a long time. Dad seemed to be lost in a daze and I wasn't sure if I should even try talking.

Finally I just decided to go to him and wrap my tiny arms around his slumped shoulders, bringing him in a secure hold as I tried to keep him calm. My gesture didn't quite have the affect I intended. I felt him stiffen for a moment and then begin to tremble as his hands rose slowly to rest on my arms.

Then he regained his strength, sniffing slightly as he gently untangled from my embrace. His hands were still on mine as he moved me to the side so he could look at me carefully. I looked into his eyes and saw desperation and confliction behind them, but I stayed silent as I listened to his words.

"Judith, I need to ask you to do something for me."

"What, Daddy?"

"I… in the next few weeks things might get a little scary. Those people that were here today are… aren't nice people and I need you to make sure that you don't cross them, understand?"

"I know. Michonne told me. I won't attract their attention."

"There's one more thing that I need you to do." He said. "I need you to be strong for me? Can you do that?"

I didn't need to think about it. "Yes, Dad. I'll always be strong—like you."

It was like he had a spasm at those words but he tried hard not to show it to me. "No. Not like me, Judith. Be strong like… like…"

"Like thunder?"

He worked up another sad smile and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yes, like thunder."

"Okay, Dad."

"Thank you." Then he got up, standing like a tower next to me. "Why don't we make your bed now, kay?"

I took his hand and followed him down the hall to my room.

* * *

 **Vendetta**  
That night I added two new charms to the chain. I made it the first time Tyrone came to me and I decided I wanted something solid to use to think of them—to represent each of them. There were no pictures of any of them that we had. I had heard of charm bracelets before and thought that maybe I could use those to represent each of these spirits. It made sense at the time.

As I secured the glass Purple Heart and a racecar I used to represent Abraham and Glenn respectively, I stared down at the chain before turning to my now emptier room.

A bitter seed was planted in my chest at the sight of it. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears while I stewed over the events of the day.

They came early, barely left us anything, and demanded we have something next week a lot more interesting. I had read and watched movies about villains; Voldemort, Joker, Maleficent, Ursula, and all of the rest, but none of them compared to these real monsters.

This man, these people, they were less than human! I hated them. Six years old and I hated them with every fiber of my soul! My father wouldn't fight them. We didn't have the numbers or the weapons now. We couldn't scrounge enough to satisfy them. What on earth could I do? How could I help them?

Michonne and Carl said it was nothing for me to worry about, but there I was, worrying about it all the same.

Every day people went out to find more and more and the scavengers came every week to take whatever we had. Everyone was being watched. Everyone was targeted. Everyone… but me.

I found myself staring at the town wall a lot of the time. Thinking deep about the one time I had ventured out on my own. I could see the circle of walkers every time I closed my eyes. I could see their eyes, the hunger inside them. Why didn't they attack me? Why didn't they kill me? Why wasn't I dead?

These questions would not ease and I debated bringing my concerns to someone trustworthy, but I wasn't sure who that was anymore. My father handed everything over to them. He was terrified and I didn't truly know what he would do if I were to tell him of it.

Was this what it had come to? Was I questioning the trust of my own father?

I didn't know what to do? There was so much weighing me down. People told me I wasn't to worry about it. It was not my place to have these worries. Everyone would do their part to take care of each other and me. Somehow we would get through it all. The other kids around town might have put it out of their minds but I couldn't. As I walked the length of the wall and listened to the moans of the walkers behind it, there was no room in me except worry.

Finally I could stand it no longer. Right after I turned seven, I got up from my bedin the middle of the night and used Carl's route once more to sneak over the walls.

I was scared—more than scared actually, but I forced myself forward until I found a walker. Its dead eyes searched the ground, following some unseen path to fill a never ending appetite.

Swallowing hard, I stepped out from my spot behind the tree and stood right before it in challenge. It stopped dead and surveyed me in consideration while I looked straight back at it, waiting for when it would move.

Finally, it began to totter around, sauntering away back to where it had come from.

I stared back, stunned and unable to move. A cold sweat had grown on the back of my neck as I stood there with my body entirely tensed, forgetting to breath or move. When it finally began to amble away and my suspicions were confirmed, I all but collapsed on the ground in relief.

So for one reason or another, the walkers didn't come near me.

But… why?

Was it because of the spell? Did I really have magical powers? I looked down at my hands in awe at the idea.

Was I… a witch?

* * *

 **Tattletale**  
"Carl? What are you doing?" Normally I didn't sneak up on him like that but for some reason watching him climb over the fence felt different today.

"Nothing." He said, "I'm just going out."

"Going out where?"

"Enid went to the Hilltop. I'm just going to make sure she gets there safely."

Somehow that didn't feel entirely true. I knew he was angry from this morning about Dad leaving with Aaron to get more supplies. Michonne had left too for some reason, but she wouldn't say why. The determined furious look in her eyes told me she was out for blood. It was the same look Carl had in his eye right now.

"You're going to try and kill Negan aren't you?!"

Carl went quiet and he didn't move for a moment. His reaction was as good as admitting it.

"You're not going to kill him, Carl!" I rounded on him, with a matter-of-fact tone. "You're going to mess up! You can't see right and you're going to mess up killing him and he's going to get pissed and rather than kill just you he's going to come back here and kill someone else for it!"

"I won't mess up!" He announced, continuing to scale up the wall.

"Yes you will!" I yelled. "You have terrible aim now. I saw the dart board! You couldn't even hit that and you really think you're going to kill Negan! You're stupid, Carl! And I'm going to tell if you leave!"

"Fine!" He shouted, "Tell if you want! See if I care!"

"You will if you mess up because of your stupid disability now!"

"I am not disabled! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Well you don't know what _you're_ doing—like always! Michonne already went to go kill Negan herself and she doesn't need you in her way."

That made Carl pause as he glanced over his shoulder down at me.

"Minchonne told you that?"

"I could tell. She gets this look in her eye when she's thinking of doing something risky. And she went out all on her own and had her sword with her!"

"She might need help then."

"Michonne was out there all on her own before we met her." I announced with certainty. "She's brave and can take care of herself. Enid can, too. They're both strong. But _you're_ not! I'm telling you now, if you leave you're going to mess up!"

He looked so angry about being held back. There was so much need for vengeance raging inside him he looked like he might scream.

"Why do you have to be like this? Just let me do what I have to."

"You don't have to do anything! But if you try to do something this dumb, you're not going to be the one who pays for it! Haven't you figured that out yet! You're not the only one who wants to kill him, Carl. So stop being selfish!"

His gaze wavered on me before turning back to the footholds, hesitantly wondering if he would take another step up. He stayed that way for a long time, leaving us both to wonder if he would turn back or not before he finally began to scale down.

* * *

 **Hypocrite**  
Dad was back that afternoon. Michonne not far behind him, looking defeated. So her attempt had bore not fruit in the end. If she of all people had failed then it had been wise of me to stop Carl when I did.

Dad and Aaron had really scored some good supplies they found in a boat house. No one really celebrated or looked through it all, especially since all of it was only going to go to our enemies. Even after that we weren't completely sure it would be enough to satisfy the Saviors when they got here in a few days, so he would be going out again soon. He considered venturing to DC to look around the small houses and shops around the edge of the suburbs. Going too deep into the city was unsafe, but he figured that it might have been okay if they stuck to the outskirts to make an easy getaway if need be.

Carl was up in his room, seething and pissed that I had made him stay, and from the frequent THUMP THUMP THUMP against the wall I could tell he was taking his anger out on the dart board. He'd get over it though, somehow.

In the meantime I had bigger things to worry about than nursing his ego.

I was still wondering about the spell I had cast around town and my encounter with the circle of dead that had miraculously neglected to kill me. Every time I closed my eyes I saw them surrounding me and I couldn't grasp how it was possible I was still alive somehow.

There were a few times I considered consulting Michonne at the least, but after the Saviors came again the next week to pick up their tribute, I chickened out and decided to keep it to myself. The very last thing I wanted was for such a secret to get back to Negan.

I didn't even want to imagine the horror that could befall us should the news reach that monster that there was someone who was immune to the dead. The constant thought of it continued to taunt me at every waking moment: when I was sitting in school with the other kids, when I was making dinner with my family, or when I was doing my chores around the town. The only place that gave me any real peace was the forest and every day afterwards its call beckoned me like a siren's song.

It finally became too much for me to resist and I chose to slip out of our walls one more time to see what lied in its wake.

I had made a big stink about Carl sneaking over the fence, but I wasn't thinking of playing assassin and risking everyone's lives the way he had been, so he had no right to tattle. Still, it was probably a good idea to be as sneaky as I possibly could. I knew well that if anyone caught me over the other side, I'd be stopped and in big trouble immediately.

As I looked over to the tree line, though, I had a strange feeling that the woods were the single place in the world I could actually be safe.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Something kind of interesting that I feel I should mention is that the squirrel button Judith uses to represent Daryl Dixon is based off an actual squirrel button that a little girl gave to Norman Reedus at a convention. Originally I wanted to use an old arrowhead like Judith describes but after seeing that video I knew that wouldn't do. If you get a chance and haven't seen it yet you should definitely look it up on YouTube. It's the cutest thing ever!**


	3. The Witch

**Chapter 3**  
 **The Witch**

Over the course of the next few weeks, I found opportunities to wonder around the woods alone. Summer was not far off and school would be let out more frequently to help with farming and other important projects, so there was that to be grateful for. If I was sly, I could occasionally trick whatever caretaker or babysitter was in charge of me by saying I'd be at the community playground for a while and then sneak into the woods to experiment more with this strange power.

What I was certain about was that walkers somehow didn't come near me. If I made noise or whatever it would attract them but the moment they caught sight of me, they would turn away, entirely disinterested for one reason or another.

I still didn't understand why though, other than concluding I had some kind of superpower that made them turn away, the same way I was sometimes able to see people that no one else could see. What did this mean?

I soon found that other things, like wild dogs and animals, were not so swayed away from whatever magic I held over the walking dead.

I remember the first time I heard those howls in the distance and the sound of the pounding feet that raced towards me. Heart in my throat, I sprinted in a direction, tripping over branches as I made my escape. They were right behind me though and I could feel the snaps of their jaws as they attempted to take chunks off of my legs.

Running almost blind I passed something like an enormous shrine. I didn't get a good look at it, not at all. I was more concentrated on fleeing for my life. But I do remember the crowd of stone people as I threaded through them to escape the dogs. Their faces were gaunt and haunting, like the walkers but unlike them, none moved.

The dogs followed through the frozen dead, searching for a way to cut me off. I kept running. Suddenly the ground disappeared beneath me and I felt myself falling. A cry left my mouth but it was cut off as something caught me shakily. It bobbed and swayed and when I looked up I realized it was a boat in the water. I could hear the dogs' padded feet beating the ground as they charged forward.

Frantically, I searched for the oars but there were none; nothing but a long rope connected to a ring nailed into the wood. Thinking quick, I tugged on it and the boat began to move forward. The dogs came into view just then and one was going so fast it missed the same drop I had, only the boat was not there to catch it as it had done for me.

I watched the others barking on the stone fixture that may have been a bridge at one point, but had now crumbled away to form an awkward sort of dock. The one that had fallen into the water barked helplessly as the strong current carried it down stream. My little seven year old heart reached out for it, despite its intentions of making me dinner moments prior.

I continued to tug on the rope, not just because I had no other option but also out of curiosity to know where the end of it was. While I continued, I saw things in the water. More statues like the ones in the strange stone crowd, only these seemed to be reaching out, frozen in their desperation to break free of the strange haunted waters.

The boat must've traveled not much over a hundred feet before I knocked against something.

It was the other end of the dock… or bridge really. This was where the end of the rope was connected to and as I climbed up onto the stone the mist that was gathered around the river and the statues began to thin a little bit. I followed a path and walked up it. The further up I got to wherever this trail led, the more I began to see and hear. The smells carried on the wind were heavenly and rich with vegetation and the air seemed to get warmer somehow.

Then the mist broke completely and I found myself standing in a garden. The most beautiful garden I'd ever seen.

There were flowers and trees and plants of every kind. Not just that but it looked like I had stumbled on the ruins of a long forgotten church since there were odd stone fixtures like the remnants of pillars and arches. There were fountains and little ponds and more statues here as well. Maybe they were saints or bishops like the ones Father Gabriel sometimes talked about. Most of them were of women though, so maybe they were nuns, but they were much different from the nuns I'd seen in pictures. In fact these people didn't wear the veils and dresses of average celibates. They seemed much more fairy-like and well… exposed. There was even a mermaid in one of the fountains, so maybe it wasn't a church so much as a temple.

When the light hit just right, it filtered in through what was left of colorful stained glass windows at the far end and created even more rainbows on the ground.

Where was I?

I turned about, wondering how I could have gone through such a foreboding forest, only to wind up here. I felt like Belle's father from the tell old tale of Beauty and the Beast when he ran through the haunted forest to find himself in the magical palace.

This was not a palace, not in the typical sense at least; well it did have a tower, but even I knew it was nowhere big enough to be considered a proper castle. Instead it was a cottage covered almost every inch with ivy vines and morning glories, but that didn't dispel its enchantment; only enhanced it.

More fascinated than ever, I neared the cottage and slipped inside peering around. It probably wasn't a good idea to enter a home that was so obviously inhabited, but my interest to know if there was anything our town might need inside, drove me forward.

I found myself in a place just as peculiar as the garden. It was a large living area with a Victorian décor. It had a couch, recliner and a matching coffee table littered with papers, books and writing equipment all over its surface. An ancient looking gramophone stood near the assembly with records propped next to it.

Off towards the far end was a very dated kitchenette complete with a cooking hearth holding all manner of iron pots and pans as well as utensils. Beside it were shelves and counters covered with various ingredients and recipe books. Just to the left of that were the doors of a glass green house leading off into the garden outside.

There were odd tomes that rested on near every shelf, little crystals here and there, totems and drying plants that hung from the ceiling and walls, and inscriptions written and carved over the wooden boards.

The more I studied this odd building the more curious I became.

"Where am I?" I asked to no one in particular.

I wasn't expecting someone to answer me.

"Well this is a surprise."

I turned sharply and saw an old woman sitting in the chair where I knew she hadn't been a moment before. My heart leapt in my throat and I jumped right off the step I was on in surprise. Even if the old woman smiled kindly at me, I was still set on edge.

Strangers were dangerous, even more if they were friendly.

"I don't get many visitors here and I wasn't expecting anyone to drop by."

"I… I didn't know I was on private property." I stated quickly, moving towards the door. "I'll leave."

She waved it off. "Not private anymore I'm afraid."

"But… this is your house isn't it?" I gestured around the very nice cottage.

"It _was_."

"You… you gave it away?" I asked noting the past tense.

"Not exactly. I just don't have any need of it anymore."

I frowned, totally confused. "B-but it's a really nice house, and it's a really nice garden, and it seems to be well protected if there are no walkers around. Why wouldn't you have need of a place like this?"

"Well it's not entirely walker-free now is it?" She pointed behind me just then and I jumped once more to see a dead-eyed body staring right at me. But when I turned around she seemed to wander away, looking for an alternate escape route from the house.

"Look at that fool." The woman commented, tilting her head sadly as she stared at the sight of it. "See how she stumbles around, swatting at the curtains, clawing at the window? Nothing but a car without a driver she is."

I had to do a double take as I looked from the woman to the walker, twice over. "But… that's you! You're that thing!"

She chuckled. "Yeah, go figure. I obviously slipped on the bathtub floor as I was getting dressed, knocked myself out and drowned in the water. Brain wasn't damaged, just put me to sleep long enough to do the job. Show's you just how close all of us are to an accident."

This was strange, I knew she was a spirit, but spirits didn't tend to act like her. They didn't act like normal people. They were fickle and came and went as they liked. Most acted as if they were sleep-walking a lot of the time. I only saw our friends occasionally, and they spoke in few words. Hershel and Dale were the only two that really talked to me in complete sentences but even those were brief and rare.

This woman was much different from usual ghosts, though.

Curiously, I turned around in the cottage. "What is this place?"

"My home, where I live—or lived I guess."

My eyes floated toward the herbs hanging to dry, the old tomes on the shelves, the crystals, the symbols carved into the woodwork, and the charms scattered around. "Are you… a witch?"

"To some I was, at least."

That may have explained why she acted so different from typical spirits, but it also turned up a lot of confusion for me. I looked around a bit more, searching for something I didn't see. "Well then where's your broom? And your cat? And your wand?"

She scoffed. "You think I'm like those fairytales you've filled your fluffy brain with?"

"Well… they are witches aren't they?"

"They are stories!" She turned back to her stumbling hungry body. "My, my. I've never seen the dead ones bat away from a person before. Usually it's quite the opposite," She examined the response of her animated corpse as it worked to find escape from the house and from me, "but she does **not** like you."

"Why not?" I asked her."Why do they try and run away from me? Why am I different? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not sure. You might be an evil they're trying to escape from. You might have an invisible bubble around you that burns their brains, or you might just stink an ungodly foul to them." Then she shrugged. "And in any case why question it? You are protected from them. They don't want you and you don't want them. Consider yourself lucky, Child, and don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

I continued to walk around the cabin examining the items strewn about with deep fascination. The spirit of the witch continued to watch her struggling walker as it lurched this way and that, always trying to remain the furthest distance from me.

Absently I picked up a crystal and turned it over in my hands. "Do you know any spells?"

"Some."

"And magic?"

"In a sense."

I turned to the ghost. "Would you teach them to _me_?"

She scoffed. "Why would you want to learn that nonsense?"

"You didn't think it was nonsense. Otherwise you wouldn't do it."

She chuckled darkly. "You don't believe in magic."

"Yes I do."

"Not anymore!" She declared with undeniable certainty, and the look she gave me just then was as if she were looking straight into my soul. "Not since that man came and broke your father. Not since that man killed your friends. Not since all you've been able to do lately is watch the lives of the people you love most fall apart around you. You've lost the magic!"

"But I haven't." I said stubbornly, swallowing back a sea of tears. How could she have known those things about me? Well she was a witch so she probably knew a lot about me just by looking at my face. "It's in me! That's why they don't bother me. I cast a spell of protection and I don't know how, but it worked."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

She paused, chewing her lip as she looked away in thought. Only the moans of her undead body were heard as she debated something. After a moment she slowly looked back my way. "Are you sure you want to learn? The magic I wield isn't like Harry Potter. There's no dueling or wand waving and no magical school of wizards and witches. It'll just be you, me, and this hut every day. If you go forward, you don't stop. Do you still want to learn?"

I didn't need to think about it. "Yes."

"Fine." She said getting up for the first time. "But first, we put that poor wretched beast out of her misery."

I turned and looked at the body, moaning and growling for a way out.

"What? You mean kill it? But she won't let me get close enough. And I'm not even tall enough to reach her skull and… I've never killed something before."

"Now you will." She pointed to the ceiling. "Go upstairs. There's a revolver in my bedside table. Get it and bring it here."

I knew what was coming but obeyed anyways.

"Have you ever shot anything?" She asked, both of us turning to the scrambling meat shell.

"No."

"Now you will."

She instructed me on how to hold it, where the safety was, and how to aim. It felt strange to hold a gun. I had seen them before, but my no one would let me hold one, not yet at least.

"Wait." I stopped before I pulled the trigger. "If I do this, won't you be gone?"

"I'm already gone, child. This beast is just a suffering wondering shell, unsatisfied and always hungry. It pains me to watch what was mine being turned to this. Have you ever felt like that?"

I looked down sadly. "…Always."

It took three times before I finally managed to strike it in the left cheek. The shots were loud and woke all the birds in the garden. When the bullet hit its mark, the body hit the ground and it hit hard.

The witch's spirit did not disappear as I had expected and she looked upon the lifeless thing now with partial indifference.

"That's that then." And then she looked me up and down, scoffing once again that day. "Gods you're puny. I hope you're stronger than you look, child."

Upon her order I was made to drag her corpse all the way out of the hut, inch by inch. When I finally got it to the place the witch instructed she pointed to a shovel leaning against the shed door.

"Have you ever dug a grave?"

I wiped my brow and panted. "No."

"Now you will."

I dug the way I had seen the adults do, but in the end it didn't look very straight and was near impossible for me to climb out of once finished. I was about to roll her in but the witch stopped me.

"Wait."

"For what?"

"Go inside, find the pliers on the table and come back out again."

I hesitated, uncertain what would entail but after a sharp "now" from the witch, I obeyed.

"Open the mouth and take a tooth."

I was appalled. "What? Why?"

"When we are buried we must be at peace, for those of us who are at peace with their death. I am at peace," she announced, "so when the last grains of dust fall on me I will be gone, but should you keep a piece of me, I may return to teach you as often as you need."

I wasn't totally sure what the rhyming was for but it made me hesitate even so. "Does it have to be a tooth? Can't it be a lock of hair?"

"No." She said sharply. "Bones are stronger, bones last longer. Take a tooth."

I didn't want to put my hands anywhere near the mouth, but I did as she instructed. It was stubbornly uncooperative. I'm sure it must've taken well at least ten minutes before I finally worked it free with a sickening sticky pop.

I grimaced at the bloody mess, wiping it off on her shirt and was prepared to stick it in my pocket.

"Do not put it with the rest." The witch announced, gesturing to the other charms around my neck. "Leave them out of these affairs. Keep them safe from further harm." Then she stood and moved towards the cottage once again. "And you best be getting used to seeing blood. You will see much of it."

And with that she left me to fill her grave alone.

I didn't see her again as I was leaving in the boat once more. The dogs were thankfully gone when I reached the opposite bank but it was late and I knew I had to get home before my father noticed I was not in town. Sometime while I was running for my life, I had gotten turned around in the forest, but by following a herd of walkers they led me to the road that I hoped would lead me back to Alexandria.

It was later than I had wanted when I returned home and when my father found me walking down the road from the apartments I was in trouble for not coming when he had called. I had worried him but thankfully they hadn't sent a search party out for me.

When he asked where I had gone I told him I went looking for hiding places the next time Negan and his men showed up.

That seemed to quiet my father and he sighed. I knew he wouldn't want me near those men again and didn't discourage the idea of hiding the next time they were in town. It seemed like a proper enough excuse then next time I needed one so I kept it in mind for later.


	4. White Magic

**Chapter 4**  
 **White Magic**

"Why do you want to learn these things?" The witch asked me the next time I arrived at her home. As she had instructed I did not add her to the charms around my neck. Instead I had glued her tooth to a chain link then connected that to a braid of twine I wore around my ankle hidden in my boot.

"I want to protect my family." I said, answering her question.

"Protect them." She snorted. "I wanted to protect _my_ family."

"You didn't?"

"…No."

"I'm sorry." And I really was. I knew that pain.

"Nothing can be done about it now." Then she turned to me. "What kind of spells do you want to learn?"

"Well… useful ones I guess. How to give someone back their strength. How to keep travelers safe. How to ward off bad dreams and bring good ones. How to find things we need. Ooh I'd like to heighten my senses. I think that would be cool."

"You want to know white magic."

I shrugged. "It's the best kind."

"The simplest too but, not always the most prospective. Faith is greatly needed in all magic, but particularly white magic. The fail-rate is higher with it than others."

"Like black magic and curses?"

Her tone grew dark as she looked down on me with those yellow eyes of hers. "Black magic involves the dead, the things that slither, crawl, and bite. It involves selling your soul."

I shook my head at the thought. "I don't want to do that."

"Good. That is wise. And we won't be learning that either way." Then she called me over to her. Her hand went to my face. Though she could not touch me, I lifted it at her direction. She looked at me as if she were seeing into my soul. "You're resourceful and adapt well to change. You've got remarkable strength and a strong sense of community… like the beetle."

"And… that's good?" I asked timidly.

"Beetles are powerful. The ancients have a certain fondness for beetles. They adapt well, are found on every continent and will live on billions of years after humans have gone, which may be much sooner than we all expected."

"I'm not sure I'm really like a beetle. Are you sure I'm not more like a butterfly or a firefly?"

She stopped dead and spoke sternly. "Why? You want to live for a twenty-four hour life cycle or be pretty and flashy and dead because you attracted too many birds and predators that want a nice rainbow meal?"

I frowned glumly. "No, I guess not."

She turned to a set of shelves in the living room and pointed up at a wooden box on the top. "Get a chair and get me my cards, girl. I want to see something."

I did as I was told and brought down the little box following her over to the table. At her direction I opened it to reveal a deck of cards. "These aren't regular playing cards." I realized flipping through them to find odd pictures."

"Shuffled them up and spread them over the surface of the table."

I obeyed and waited for further instructions.

"You want to learn?"

"Yes."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"And you're not frightened?"

"No."

"Then look at the cards. Put your hand over them, just so; only your fingertips and _feel_."

I did as I was told, hovering over them and I focused.

"Now let them move." In a deep hush she leaned towards me and added with urgency, " _Believe_."

I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth, letting my mind clear as I began to feel something. There was a pulse as my hand drifted to the side. It pulsed again when I retracted to the same spot. They drifted over a card, pulsing again like there was a beating heart in my hand. For some reason this card was speaking to me. I reached out and took it.

"Do I flip it over?" I asked her.

"There's no need."

Confused, I looked over my shoulder only to find her back to me as she turned to the door.

"Come, girl, we have work to do."

Speechlessly, I looked from her to the card I had pulled and paused. Before following I sated my curiosity and flipped the card over:

 **The High Priestess**

I was confused by her reaction but I followed her out, hoping that I could gain some answers about what the card had meant.

We crossed with the boat and continued the conversation in the forest, strolling down a game path.

"Casting the tarot is a gift." She explained. "When you know the arcane you can hear the echo of time in your ear. In time you will learn their meanings."

"What does the High Priestess mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

"Holiness?"

Her brow rose in amusement as she glanced up and down at me in exasperation. " _Really_? Come on. You can do better than that."

I pouted in thought. It wasn't my fault I didn't know anything about tarot cards or the different meanings between them, but it looked like she really wanted me to try, so I remembered back to how the picture looked. She had been sitting between two pillars, one white and one black. There had been a fruit in her hands and the moon at her feet.

I closed my eyes for better thought, trying to think. "A… a choice. A balance between what's dead and alive. And something like… temptation always within sight, trying to tip the scales?"

Vanessa looked pleased. "That's the feeling. Don't be getting too big for your britches, though. They don't always mean what you would expect." She walked on. "The High Priestess is also known as Persephone, Isis, the Corn Maiden and Artemis. She sits between the land of the living and the land of the dead. The pomegranate in her lap is a symbol of duty, because Persephone ate the fruit from the land of the dead she is forced to return to the underworld every year.

"Everything is symbolic as you've already discovered with those charms around your neck. Symbols represent people; they can guide them, too. Tell me about your father. Why do you use a star to represent him?"

I didn't ask how she knew that. "Because he used to be a sheriff."

"And why else?"

"I dunno. That's all I suppose."

"Try harder." She snapped.

I thought hard as her harsh tone had instructed. "Stars… are forever. They shine brightest in the dark. When they die, it takes centuries for their flames to burn out. But I feel like these things don't really describe my father anymore."

"Why?"

"Well… lately he _has_ been burned out. Like someone snuffed out his flames."

"Who was it?"

I hesitated, not liking to say his name in such a pretty place. It felt like a curse word. "A warlord. He calls himself Negan."

"What would you use to represent this Negan were you to find a charm for him?"

I frowned. "I wouldn't need to because I would never search for a charm for him. I hate him." I stated firmly. "Charms are used for the people I love—people I care about. Not him!"

"I see then." She murmured before nodding in approval. "That's actually good."

"It is?"

"Yes, I now see where your priorities lie. Not on revenge or some hidden agenda towards your own ideals of justice. You only seek to help people. Try not to change that."

We walked in silence for a while before I asked a new question. "Will I only learn spells with you?"

"No. I have other things to teach you as well like plants and animals, how to pick locks, how to hunt, how to find water, food, and shelter. You probably don't even know that we've passed about half a dozen sources of food in only three steps."

I stared at her surprised before turning about to see what I may have missed. But everything just looked like ordinary grass and trees to me. Not good for eating at all.

Then she pointed to several plants in turn that I hadn't noticed before, "Wild onion, purslane, clover, dandelion, and pine."

I looked back at her in confusion.

"But… you can't eat pine. And dandelions are just weeds."

"You'll find a hidden magic in all plants. When out of everything else dandelions have long been used in salads and wine, are rich in vitamin A and are reputed to have curative and diuretic properties. You'll also find that there's a magic in its meaning. Dandelion is a corruption of the French _dent de lion_ , which in turn comes from the medieval apothecaries' term _dens leonis_ , so-named because either the tap root, the florets, or the jagged edge of the leaves resemble a lion's tooth. It is also connected to the sun, as is the lion; the flower's appearance is very suggestive of ancient representations of the sun. It has many local names, including fair clock, swine snout, priest's crown, puff ball and shepherd's clock. In addition, the feathery seed-tufts serve as his barometer, predicting calm or storm. Children and lovers grant them special oracular powers and blow on them to judge the time, or to find out whether or not they are in their loved one's thoughts."

I stared at her dumbfounded, unable to speak for a long, long moment. In one lecture she had completely changed the way I looked at these yellow weeds. I hadn't even known food like this was available in the forest. I assumed everything was just trees and bushes, maybe you might find some berries but even those could be questionable.

The witch turned back to me. "Little Beetle, if you learn my craft you will learn everything and I will see to it that you live long enough to put it to good use." And then she introduced herself properly. "You may call me Vanessa Ives, and from now on, _I_ will be your teacher."

I stared, uncertain about what to say. I had never imagined such a little plant could own so much weight and meaning. The wonder on my face must have shown because Vanessa went on.

"I can show you a whole other world, Beetle, hidden all around you. I can teach you the meanings of everything. Every single thing in the world has a greater purpose in spells and chemistry." Her eyes grew big and her smile shone as she gazed back at me. "Oh the wonders you will find in my world. And I'll share them all with you."

My eyes sparkled with hope and longing.

With those words a marvelous door had been thrust open for me.

My family wouldn't die. My father's fight had been taken out of him, but I would fight for him now. I would be his instrument and make sure to take care of all the people we loved, in whatever way I could. If I needed to do so in secret then so I would do.

But Alexandria would live. Negan could take everything we had and more but I would give it back somehow, through work, through help, through hope. This woman's spirit would grant me the ways to do it and I would learn everything she offered to give.


	5. Baa, Baa Black Sheep

**Chapter 5  
Baa, Baa Black Sheep**

 _ **Three years later**_

The years changed and the town changed with it. The walls expanded four times, creating inner and outer levels as the community grew. People came, people left. Some died but most were still alive despite all things considering. We continued to pay off Negan's men. Everything in the surrounding areas had been picked dry though, so we settled our semimonthly tributes by farming and brewing alcoholic beverages like moonshine, beer, and whiskey.

I had a few tricks on how to find things, though; tricks that Vanessa taught me.

We had horses now, three cows, and four goats. A few times we had tried to raise pigs but for some reason it never worked out. Either Negan would take them all or we had to sacrifice them as bait to keep the walkers away.

It was hard finding opportunities to sneak out of town, but somehow I always managed. School interfered with it much of the time but spring had just started and soon summer would be upon us, and summer vacation with that, allowing me more opportunities to sneak out behind everyone's backs. For the most part though, my ventures into the woods took place late at night or early in the morning.

Today especially was guaranteed to be very exciting. I might have burst with happiness if I weren't already mentally dead.

After only an hour of sleep, Dad came into my room and woke me, announcing it was going to be another busy day.

I yawned feeling like a walker as I dragged my butt out of bed. It had been a busy enough _night_ for me. Normally I didn't work while it was dark, but there were few opportunities I found to sneak off during the day, so night and early, early morning had to do it for me. I moved slowly through my morning routine: go to the bathroom, brush hair and teeth, splash some water on my face, get dressed, and meet everyone at the breakfast table.

Dad spooned me up some oatmeal and I shoveled it in my mouth before thinking to add honey to the bland flavor.

"Our elf made another delivery this morning." Michonne announced bursting in the kitchen. Her smile filled the room and I knew why. "Now we got a flock of sheep and a lot of wool to shear off them."

"Are you kidding? How do you know it was the elf?" My brother asked, surprised and then skeptical.

"I'm pretty sure," Michonne insisted. She glanced over towards me as I ate my oatmeal and honey and I did my best to look surprised by her news, rousing myself to resemble something that looked sleepily excited. I wasn't totally sure about her expression, whether she knew the truth or not, but she distracted my father and brother as she continued. "Not sure how long they were out there in the wild, but judging by the length of their coats, it's been a long time. They're long, thick and caked with dirt and who knows what else so we're cancelling school today. Everybody helps out so no disappearing for hours." She looked my way again and I nodded.

People knew I often disappeared for hours at a time on a regular day once all my chores and studies were finished, but they didn't know where. They just assumed I had a hiding place I visited during my free time. Sometimes I felt like people wanted to complain about it, but I think they wanted me to take this time to play and enjoy life as much as I could. It helped that I was still a kid with fifteen other peers they tended to concentrate more on so keeping an eye on everyone tended to get a little complicated.

I looked towards Michonne forcing myself alert once more as I finished with my breakfast. "Okay. What can I do?" I was always eager to help, even if I was half dead.

Once everyone was done with their food we followed Michonne towards the middle of town where the community had set up a pen, of a sort, out of unused bed frames and old car doors, and were discussing their plans for how they would proceed. Nobody was much into shepherding back when the world was still in order and the amount of crud the animals had accumulated in the wild was staggering.

It was a challenge getting them here, that's for sure. It was miraculous how I was able to even accomplish it. It was miraculous that I stumbled on them in the first place. It was miraculous they managed to survive so long.

Miraculous.

"Great you guys are here." Kyle said, watching as we all approached. He turned towards the heard of twenty-five large grey rainclouds baying in the center of the pen. "We were just talking about how they managed to survive so long. Spencer believed that the thickness of their coats were what saved them. Walkers can't exactly chew through all that wool."

I can safely say through firsthand experience that that is exactly how they survived for so long.

The adults discussed a plan of attack while other members of the community gathered supplies like hedge sheers, tarps, mesh bags, dish soap, rubber gloves, and a large tin bathtub for boiling the wool clean. Ryan had a book on sheering he had found in one of the houses and directed people on how we would proceed.

The work started and didn't stop till sundown. It was gross work. The fleeces were caked with dirt, bugs, stickers, manure and who knew what else. The sheep didn't help all that much, either. They were skittish and bucked too damn much. Volunteers took turns sheering while others offered to hold the sheep down to keep the ball rolling. Once free of the suffocating hides, they were finally able to move about on their own. They looked relieved, in my opinion.

You'd think animals had never been so happy to be free of their own coats.

Although the work was grueling, it was nothing compared to what it was like to get them here.

It had been painstakingly difficult to round them all up and move them back home. It had started out as a herd of thirty or so, but walkers and rabid dogs had boiled that number down to a mere twenty-five once I finally got them all to the wall. Lucky the guard on duty had heard the baying before I needed to get too close and blow my cover.

My weekly trips into the forest alone were still a secret I wasn't fully prepared to go public with just yet. Only Enid knew the truth but just because we had both caught each other wondering out alone one day. Out of mutual respect, we agreed not to tell on each other.

She was in awe by whatever power I held to keep them at bay. At first she wanted to tell the others, but I managed to convince her not to. Negan still had us under his thumb and I didn't know what he would do if he found out about it. It persuaded her immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was to sell me out to that monster.

Apart from her, I believed Michonne probably suspected something at the time but had never said anything about it. Maybe she wanted to, but the level of success I achieved in foraging might've helped her turn a blind eye to it.

Every time I went in, I always made an effort to return with something whether it were acorns, herbs, fish, honey, meat, or manmade supplies; anything and everything useful that I could get my hands on.

So far, the sheep were my greatest accomplishment. Well… greatest accomplishment _alone_ that is. A few years back I had a helper… or maybe _I_ was the real helper. It made me sad thinking about my friend and how we had parted, but I had to push it aside before I could let it consume me. There were bigger matters to attend to after all.

It was hard to remember a time when my family looked so pleased with themselves. We'd be able to make clothes and blankets and mattresses with these animals. And if we ever needed it, they would feed us.

Countless times before I had found food and tools, medicine, maps, and homemade supplies. I usually placed them on the doorsteps of people who needed them most and kept in mind not to be spotted when doing it. I don't' think my father would have been pleased to find out that his nine year old daughter was running around walker infested woods alone with no escort. But I'd been doing it for almost three years by now and not a single walker so far had so much as tried to come near me. Not one.

But it wasn't just walkers that were dangerous. Far from it. Walkers were a threat of the past. These days we had warlords breathing down our neck.

Or one in particular.

"You know the saddest thing about this?" Carl said as he took his turn to help sheer. I crouched by him, using my measly weight to pin the sheep as the scissors cut through the wool. "It almost doesn't even matter. Most of these will go to that bastard the moment he sees them."

I looked away.

Sometimes he could really make me mad. I had sweat and bled and risked my life to get these sheep here and even if he didn't know it had been me, the least he could do was be a little grateful for the few we may actually manage to keep.

All I tried to do was make sure everyone was okay and alive for the next day, and the day after that. He may have helped but not after complaining first. There wasn't a whole lot to be happy about when viewing our situation but it couldn't have killed him to try for once!

Though I suppose it wasn't his fault. He lost an eye and he had been there when they managed to break our father, now all anyone could really do was bare it all grudgingly.

My thoughts were lost as a force collided with my rear and knocked me off my feet. I landed hard in the dirt as I recognized the culprit that threw me to the ground.

It was the ram.

He had been a devil the entire journey and was a major factor in the herd's survival in the first place. He _hated_ me.

Most of the threats we met along the way were pushed through thanks to him, but he hindered much of our progress by knocking into me every chance I carelessly turned my back to him. On the way back I had gotten to calling him Ram Dover and lost track of how many times he had plowed into me. I very nearly gave the flock up with the number of times he got the drop on me but I had to remind myself repeatedly it **would** be worth it in the end. Even so, my butt was probably decorated with purple patches by now, courtesy of his doing.

"Ugh! You!" I said getting up once more and dusting myself off as I faced the sheep jerk. "What's your problem, you goat?!"

"Don't get mad, honey." My father consoled, coming behind the animal and leading him back with the others. He still had yet to be sheered and probably broke out of the enclosure just to run me over. "He's just an animal protecting his flock. It was only this one time, so we'll just have to be a little more careful from now on to not turn our back on him."

I grit my teeth. _This one time?_ He had no idea!

I glared after the animal, making the "I've got my eyes on you" gesture once he faced me again behind the fence.

He bayed a threat I didn't understand and I glared harder at him before turning back to complete our work.

* * *

"Those sheep are going to be a godsend to us." Michonne announced. "Wool stuffing, wool socks, wool blankets and sweaters. All we have to do now is learn how to knit."

"Just as long as Negan gets his pick out of everything." Carl said bitterly.

I swallowed my mouthful of potato casserole and there was silence around the table.

"Maybe we could convince him that they're too much trouble for him." I suggested hopefully. "They eat a lot and attract too many walkers. And the sheering wasn't exactly easy and the wool gets gross. Their medicine is hard to come by, they're hard to protect, and the ram is a _jerk_."

My father looked at me and smiled sadly, "You have a lot of good points."

"Yeah, good points," Carl muttered playing with his food angrily. "Unless he decides he wants lamb chops for dinner and makes us kill them all to ease the trouble."

"We could say we didn't know how long they were out there and they may have diseases." I offered.

"None of us are dead yet so I'm not sure how well he'll buy that."

Did he really have to be like this? "I'm just offering suggestions, Carl!" I snapped at last. "You don't have to rain on everyone's parade all the time!"

I was frustrated with his attitude. I had gotten my butt kicked to get those sheep home—multiple times! And I'd do whatever I had to to make sure we'd manage to keep most of them.

Dad put our quarrel to rest. "Okay that's enough out of both of you. When he comes I'll see what I can do."

I turned back to my plate, but Carl stood up sharply, finished with his food as he left the table. I was still angry with him even after dinner was cleaned up and wouldn't wish him goodnight as I walked up to bed.

Sometime in the night though I was roused and walked downstairs to find Dad up lounging on the couch tiredly. I knew the expression on his face and recognized a nightmare.

The dream spell I had cast must've been wearing off again. They normally did rather quickly where he was concerned. He had so many demons riding on his back after all.

"Dad?"

He jumped and saw me in the doorway.

"Judith, what are you doing up?"

"Nothing. I just heard a noise and was seeing what it was."

"Sorry." He grumbled. "Didn't mean to wake you up. I just couldn't sleep."

"Let me get you something, okay," I decided. Before he could refuse I was already in the kitchen boiling some water for a calming tea.

I added honey and brought it back in his favorite mug.

"Thank you, sweetheart." And he drank it to humor me. "That really hits the spot actually."

I took a seat beside him and curled close. He swung his arm around me and let my head rest against him.

"When does Negan come?"

"In a week."

"So… probably tomorrow then, 'cause we all know he has no concept of time."

He chuckled once but didn't laugh.

"I really want to keep those sheep." I told him.

"Me, too. But don't be naming them just yet till we know the verdict."

"It might be a little late for that. You know that ram jerk that kicked my butt?"

"I might recall."

"I'm calling him Ram Dover."

He really did laugh this time. "That's pretty clever."

We stayed quiet with his occasional sip of tea. Soon enough we both dozed off and woke only when Michonne came down to start breakfast the next morning and we sat in wait for when Negan or his men would show up to claim their goods.

Before leaving for my own chores I snuck upstairs to perform a luck spell.

I soon found that not all spells worked the same as others. Each spell worked differently and it was based mostly on the situation you were currently in. There were thousands and finding the right spell was the real trouble.

Finally I settled on one. I got out my secret store of ingredients and selected a brown candle, my iron horseshoe and a grey feather. I placed the horseshoe carefully on the wood of my bedroom floor with it facing towards me and standing the candle up inside it. I lit the wick and held the grey feather out, reciting the rhyme as it burned in the flame.

"Luck and prosperity come to our town Let the good rise up and the bad stay down

Allow the new sheep to remain And get the foul Saviors to abstain

Three times three So mote it be"

I recited it three times, enough to finish watching the feather burn out. The ash fell into the arch of the horseshoe and rather than blowing out the candle and risk blowing away the luck inside the horseshoe, I licked my fingers and smothered the flame with a tight pinch.

Breathing deep I looked at the display before turning towards my window. Staring out hopefully at the blue sky above, my heart ached desperately. I really hoped I did it right. Spells were so temperamental. If you didn't do them precisely right then you risked losing the magic entirely and they wouldn't work.

I was getting better at it, but Vanessa still said I had a long way to go before my success-rate was stronger.

Well the spell was done and I began packing everything back into my little wooden crate. The rest was up to fate and the talents of the town.

* * *

I was ecstatic.

The town had all banded together and through our skills of deception we'd managed to convince Negan's men that the sheep were more trouble than they were worth. It had all become a rather theatrical event and had involved quite a bit of embarrassment on everyone's part. I once more had to be subjected to Ram Dover's horns as he plowed over me and had to make sure the men were there to see it. They had laughed and it sucked, but it had at least discouraged their eagerness to take the sheep off our hands.

Afterwards my dad was able to convince them not to load the flock in the trucks they had brought with them. Instead they agreed to let us raise the animals ourselves, but we of course had to agree to give over half of whatever fleece or goods we managed to grow from them in the future.

All the work and none of the reward… well almost none. We all knew it was the best deal we could get and thankfully the amount of fleece we had already was promised to last quite a long time. They still wanted the bit they were due but they hadn't seen the animals before they were sheered and being able to successfully cheat them out of what they assumed was "half" felt really good.

I skipped down the street with Enid towards their pen area once the men were gone, delightfully singing with our luck.

"We get to keep the sheep 'Cause we discouraged the creep And you snore when you sleep!"

Enid laughed. She felt just as good about it and went along with my teasing. "I don't snore when I sleep, you snore when you sleep!

"You snore!"

"Your father snores!"

"Yes he does!"

We made it to the pen and found Father Gabriel standing straight and tall, staring at the flock with interest.

"I never assumed I would be looking after a literal flock before." He announced as we approached. "But it seems everyone believes this would be the perfect job for me."

"You're going to be their shepherd?"

He turned, a smile on his features as he looked at us proudly. "Seems rather appropriate, wouldn't you agree?"

I grinned. "Yeah. I think that would be great."

"We should thank the father for this blessing he's delivered to us. As well as our Elf who led them to our town."

Enid and I both smiled by that and refused to look at each other for fear we may end up giving something away.

"I'll bet the Elf is just glad they can help at all." I said.

"If there is an elf…" Enid announced sarcastically.

The Elf had become something of my alternate persona around Alexandria. It was what most of the people had begun calling the gifts left randomly on our doorsteps. The medicine, the food, the small bits of hope. Someone had remembered the tale of the Elves and the Shoemaker and had chosen to dub the mysterious giver as such.

It hadn't always been that way, though.

I at first left the gifts outside of the gate, hoping that the guard would spot them and choose to bring them in. But they had refused to so much as touch them, assuming it was a trick set by one of our thousands of enemies. Perhaps the food was drugged or poisoned or carried diseases. We had no medicine now thanks to the Saviors and should the offerings turn deadly… well, it was just best to be safe than sorry.

Paranoia was my greatest enemy those first few weeks.

Finally I realized the only way this stuff would be put to good use was if I brought it in myself.

I selected a few houses in need and distributed them as I saw fit.

The gifts hadn't been well received, as it turned out. It created something of a panic at first. People believed there could have been a traitor that had managed to infiltrate the walls and was trying to kill us all. That was at least until I had chosen to test it all myself just to put everyone's worries to rest.

It was easy for me to get away with it. One of the good things about being little is that no one expected me to know better, so I could get away with a touch more things than other people.

I had pretended to get up early that day (I was already up) and made breakfast using ingredients that had been "left on the doorstep". Honey, raspberry tea, and some SPAM with wild mushrooms and eggs. It was a good breakfast; one that Vanessa had shown me how to cook while I was at her cottage. The smell wafted upstairs and woke everyone up. My dad came down first, hungry and curious who was cooking. He saw me eating at the counter, but when he recognized the food, he instantly overacted.

We went through the routine. He asked where I got the food and I told him someone left it on the doorstep, he worked himself into a panic, Michonne and Carl had to come down and once everyone eventually saw that I was not in fact dead they finally calmed down.

There were various opinions about the "elf". Most people were skeptical but anyone brave enough to test the merchandise eventually caved due to hunger or curiosity.

No one ever died. And once they had worked past their suspicions about the food they began to test the medicinal products.

Vanessa taught me all about salves, creams, essential oils, soaps and lotions. All of which she instructed me to manufacture right in her little cottage. She had everything I needed in there and it soon became a godsend during times of need. Even long before she had died she had been stored up on a surplus of various creams and salves, not just that but she had an enormous storage cellar filled with enough supplies and food to feed one or two people for several years. Vanessa had no more need for it and allowed me to distribute it to my people as I required.

I learned all about gardening, hunting, gathering, fishing, plant identification and so on. I felt like I was a pupil of a magical school or the assistant to a magician sometimes. It was a delicious secret I could hold close to me during the darker times.

No one knew who the Elf might've been but everyone concluded that it had to be someone in town. The only questions was, who? And why were they staying quiet?

Enid was the only one who caught on… well the only one in town to at least, thinking back to my secret friend.

Enid was different than the others. She didn't overlook me like everyone else did because I was too little or young. I think deep down we were a bit the same, that's why she was able to find me out.

It was maybe a few months after my friend had left me for good. I no longer scaled the wall to escape the town but opted to go down the unused sewage tunnel leading out. I had taken the initiative and planted thick juniper bushes all around the gate and atop the hill so it was harder for outsiders to find. With those it was a bit more secure and no one kept much of an eye on it. Though I was a little worried about how frequently I traveled through it. Someday someone outside would catching me coming out of it and use it for their advantage to crush us. For the moment though, it was the only route available to me.

She had followed me all the way down and out. I hadn't even noticed she was tailing me, till I heard her scream.

It had been sheer instinct that had propelled me forward towards her aid rather than panic to force me back. One of my people was in danger and I had to help.

I came around a bend and saw Enid pinned by a walker, its teeth gnashing hungrily at her neck as she struggled to throw it off her. Several more were on their way to toppling on her as well.

Without thought I rushed to her aid and began to yell at the top of my lungs.

"Get off her! Go away! Shoo! GET!"

The ones approaching seemed to think better of it and chose another direction and the one on top of her slowed its pursuit to get at her neck the closer I came. When Enid saw her chance she buried a knife into the rotting skull and it rolled away from her person letting her leap to her feet.

She switched between staring at me and back at the stray walkers hovering nearby, too stunned to say anything for a long, long time.

I grabbed her hand and led her away from them but she couldn't dispel her shock.

"W-what did you do?" She exclaimed in disbelief.

"Nothing!" I said hastily. "I just scared them off you, that's all."

"Walkers don't get scared, Judith!" She shouted. "What did you do? Why didn't they come near us?"

"It—I don't know."

"Don't lie! What do you have on you? Some kind of repellent or something?"

"No."

She grabbed me just then, stopping us both, and she looked me in the eye, dead serious. "I'm not playing games, Judith! This is serious. You've been sneaking into the woods every chance you get and the only reason you haven't died yet is because somehow you've got a secret that keeps them from coming near you! You tell me what it is, Judith Grimes! If it's something that can help our people you have to tell us! You have to tell us right—"

"I DON'T KNOW WHY THEY DON'T COME NEAR ME!" I screamed. Enid stopped her rant and stared silently down at me. I couldn't meet her gaze as I looked at the ground wearily. I was still getting over the wound of losing my friend and began to cry with the thought of it all. "I don't know why, but they won't. I've been trying to figure it out but I can't. I don't know why I'm this way."

Enid wanted to tell the others, but I managed to convince her not to. For my sake she agreed. In return I showed her the island. She, along with everyone else knew I already saw things, like our dead loved ones at times, but this was entirely new to her.

There were times when I really wanted to share it with everyone, not just Enid; perhaps tell my dad about it and let him use it when he needed to get away for a while. But he was being watched too carefully by our enemy. My secret would be blown before I could finish saying, "Don't tell anyone." And the Saviors would come to ruin it.

Despite myself I was happy that I had someone to share this burden with. It had been so long since there was anyone living that I could trust. Not since John…

The entrance to the island was guarded by an enormous shrine for an ancient pagan god. He was bearded and had tall antlers sprouting from his head like naked branches. His chest was bare with a flowing shawl winding around his lower half and draping around his left outstretched arm. Vanessa called him Cernunnos; I called him Hades, mostly for the next part.

Behind his statue or shrine were dozens of other statues made to look like people. In the mist they looked creepy and foreboding, warding away any rational thinking person from entering their crowd. It looked like a herd of stagnant walkers and even if someone spotted the stone they were made from, it probably wouldn't be enough to encourage them to enter. Enid sure didn't want to enter the first time she saw them.

Walkers were tricky hiders, and tended to pop up at the most unexpected times. You didn't want to be caught by one in this crowd.

Beyond the statues were the remnants of a stone bridge that once led over to an island in what used to be part of the Potomac River. No one knew it was there. Mist tended to rise from it, like a haunted dead cloud, creating even more reason for strangers to steer clear of it.

In the river were more statues of dead things rising out of it. I called this part of the river the Styx, so the statue of Hades would be easier to understand now.

I no longer used the little boat that had guided me over long ago. Instead I took hold of a staff concealed to look like a simple bent flagpole, minus the flag, thrown down on the ground and appearing as nothing more important than regular garbage. I inserted it into a mechanism like fitting a key into a lock and pulled it back, activating the wheals as a drawbridge suddenly emerged straight up from the murky waters, connecting the banks and making it easier and faster to cross these days.

The ruins I had found the first day were all that was left of a long forgotten pagan church and the warmth that rose from it, creating the eerie mist all around, was due thanks to the hot springs that bubbled right out of it.

It was a godsend the whole place. Perfect almost. Walkers couldn't come across thanks to the rapids of the river and everyone was put off immediately by the collective shrine and statues.

Enid fell in love with the island the very first time and decided to help me with my foraging for our family. The island was probably best left as a secret anyways. If too many people knew about it, there was a higher chance that the Saviors would eventually find out about it, too. It was a nice secret weapon, should the need ever arise to use it for a safe haven or a stowaway for contraband items that was sure to be confiscated by our enemies.

It was a good place.

Vanessa had mixed feeling about Enid but no longer had any power over who was let onto the land so she couldn't really tell me no. Besides she was hardly any different from John, her old companion who used to visit her long ago. I had met him once before and he had stayed for a time, teaching me things beside Vanessa but he left and these days it hurt too much to think about him so I just tried to… not.

In the meantime I showed Enid all my favorite areas and she tried not to act too creeped out when I told her I was being tutored by a dead witch that was haunting the property. She seemed to take it all in rather well, but she was still concerned all the same.

I continued my lessons with Vanessa alone. Though understanding, Enid always made it a point to disappear whenever this happened. I think she found it a bit off-putting when she caught me speaking to an entity she could neither see nor hear. I wasn't insulted by it though; a lot of people found it disconcerting, especially if they found out I'd just been speaking with someone they used to know in life.

As patient as Enid was, she never passed up an opportunity to tell me exactly how she felt about my secrets.

"This can't last forever, Judith." She told me as we tended the vast herb garden. "We have to tell someone about you."

"Why?"

"Because it could help us. It could help so many people. If we could figure out why you're this way then maybe…"

"No, it'll just make everything worse." I insisted. "The Saviors will find out, everyone will get in trouble, I'll be taken away, Dad'll try to stop them, more people will die…" I buried my face in my hands as if to shield myself from those thoughts. "I can't do it. I'm already so scared of this. Yes there are good things about it, but there are so many other problems it brings up. And don't tell me everyone will protect me because they can't!"

Enid went quiet after that. There was nothing she could come up with to dispel the fears I had been realizing ever since I made this discovery about myself. So she stayed quiet and helped with whatever work I did to contribute to our people, whether it was gathering, hunting, fishing, or distributing the gifts we found in the forest among Alexandria as needed.

She was a good help and I was grateful for her friendship, but she really couldn't replace my first friend and partner.

 _Don't think about him_ , I told myself constantly, whenever my thoughts wondered to my strong and mysterious friend. _He chose to leave. Don't think about it or it'll hurt too much to bear_.

Once or twice she suggested telling Carl, at the least. I had considered this as well, many times, but I always decided against it somehow. I don't know why, not really, but I told myself that he would probably tell Dad, and as much as I loved Dad, he would want to do everything to protect me rather than allowing me the freedom I needed to protect _our_ people.

I needed to protect our people. It was the only thing that gave me purpose.

I _needed_ to protect _our_ people.


	6. The Radio Host

**Chapter 6  
The Radio Host**

I sat with the rest of my family as we settled in to listen to the evening show tonight. I settled down on the floor binding together some new fishing lures while everyone else concentrated on their own individual projects. Spring was coming close and there was a good deal of planning and preparing we had to get ready for. We used evening to accomplish these things and it gave us the time to tune in to the only radio network that probably still ran in the country and maybe even the whole world.

Bianca Swan was a radio host that we had been listening to for the better part of six years. The first time we heard about her was a bit after the Battle for Alexandria. I somehow remember the day perfectly, probably because everyone recounted it so often.

The majority of people were cleaning up the mess of the walkers when everyone heard a hum off in the distance. We looked up to see a bright red plane coming straight for us. Panic flaring hot, everyone sprinted for the armory, but it was coming in fast and even if we had guns it wouldn't have proven much use against a gunship. Thankfully it wasn't diving to attack though. It circled the town trailing behind it a long banner that read

 **Tune in to 96.2 AM radio network**

It circled three times and then left. The sight of the first plane anyone had seen in years had left a stir all around town that left mixed emotions of panic and excitement. Some people worried about it being a spy plane, figuring it would come back with an army to kill us whenever we saw it next. It had seen the whole of our town, our defenses the people, the broken fence, everything. Surely they were going to use that to their advantage at the first opportunity they had.

Others countered that we should listen to the banner it had. Its purpose hadn't been to attack but to inform. There was little any of us could do other than listen to it, so we all sat around an old boom box and waited, listening to static.

It was hours before anything happened, and then at five promptly there was a voice that echoed out of the machine.

"Goooooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! This is K96.2 coming to you live from East to West in the United States today. I'm your host Bianca Swan here with you this fine November 15th 2015 and it is a pleasure to be with you today. For brand new listeners tuning in for the first time welcome to the show, and for frequent listeners, welcome back."

Dad didn't know what to make of it. No one did. It was the voice of a stranger and strangers could rarely be trusted. Yet it still never stopped us from tuning in every day promptly at five.

Her show centered on life hacks, worst-case scenario situations, survival tips, and what to do in emergencies. There were also the guest speakers that frequently came on with her. A psychologist named Jordan Templeton occasionally came on to discuss what to expect when welcoming any survivors that groups took in, PTSD challenges, and other mental issues concerning people who have been through the ringer of horrendous conditions brought on by the outbreak. A farmer named Orville Forseth came on to share different tricks and techniques for growing more productive crops and livestock. Nancy Adams was a doctor and survival expert that frequently discussed methods to treat wounds and discuss walker escape tricks.

I loved listening to her show. There was music, and sometimes an audio book that she played, stories that guest speakers shared…

It felt like we weren't alone.

She gave no hints about where she might be located, but people assumed she had to be near an airport or military base at the least. At first her airplanes—or birds as we liked to call them—were only seen about once a year but as time progressed it looked like they gradually worked up to biannual checkups on us. It was a huge deal whenever we saw them in the sky. Everyone would drop whatever they were doing to shield their eyes and look to the heavens, like looking upon angels as they watched over us.

I remember being so little and jumping up and down to wave up at them eagerly, hoping and dreaming for them to land and talk to us.

But they never did.

No one knew why that was. Dad was afraid they were for spying on defenses and in time they would probably use those planes against us, but eventually years passed and they never so much as did a barrel-roll in greeting or acknowledgement.

So we continued to tune in, listening to the voice speaking out over miles and miles from wherever her base was located. For all anyone knew she could have been as near or far as thirty to a thousand miles away.

I grew up listening to those comforting unseen voices, drinking in everything that they told me and taking every show to heart. I still remember the most exciting show she ever hosted; Eugene had even had the foresight to copy it on an old recorder and allowed me to borrow it every once in a while. It was one of the most heartwarming things I had ever listened to in my whole life.

Around a year after we'd all been listening to the broadcasts Bianca was interrupted by an unexpected radio guest.

She'd just been in the process of listing the occasional importance of the day with memories of past when static began to interrupt the frequency just then.

Carl smacked the boom box impatiently, figuring it was coming from our end. But the voice of Bianca contradicted that assumption a moment later.

"Ladies and gentlemen there appears—shhh—some—shhh—terferance with—shh—I'm going to try to—shhh—,"

And then an unfamiliar male voice, offset with static echoed from out of it.

"Huston… Huston is that you?"

There was a moment of silence that ran through the entire mess hall.

"Hello?" Bianca called over the radio waves hesitantly. "Who is this?"

"Who is this?" The stranger asked back curiously.

"You're on air with Bianca Swan on K96.2. Who is this?"

There was more static and a long momentary pause. "This is Sergeant Lee Miles of the US Military calling from the International Space Station."

There were echoing words of shock and confusion all throughout the mess hall. Every single person in the entire building was listening attentively now.

"The International Space Station?" Bianca repeated in shock. "You're transmitting from the International Space Station right now?"

"That is correct, Ma'am."

"How did you survive for so long?"

"It's a long story."

"The collapse of DC and NASA headquarters went down over four—,"

"Over four years ago," The man said wearily. "Or if you want to be really specific, four years, ten months, three weeks, two days, eight hours and fourteen minutes since our last and final transmission with Houston."

"Sergeant, I'm… I'm…"

"Listen… Brianna was it?"

"Bianca."

"Bianca, what I'd really like to know is, and pardon my French but we've been orbiting around the same goddamned blue sphere for five and a half years so try and bear with me, but what the fuck is going on down there?"

I could feel the weight in the air get tense as everyone listened in on the broadcasted conversation.

"Language please, this is a family station. Sergeant, have you not had any contact with Earth this entire time?"

"We had a brief conversation with a Japanese computer network about four years ago, but since then… nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Who's there with you now?"

"A Pilot Engineer from Russia, Alek Popov, and a young Military Medic from China named Kimiku Zula."

They talked for hours it seemed. Most of their lingo I couldn't quite keep up with, but the gist of it was the astronauts were beginning to run out of food and oxygen. Their supplies on the ISS was said to last for years and years but it seemed as though the station had recently undergone some serious damage from a meteor shower and a good percent of the facility had been entirely destroyed. They'd been broadcasting a frequency to all radio frequencies, hoping and praying for months that someone would hear them.

Finally, finally they heard Bianca.

They swapped their stories over the frequency, Bianca doing her duty to fill in what had happened since communications between the astronauts and Houston was severed. It was a heavy blow for all of them, but once they were able to move passed the shock, a plan was formed to figure out a way for the astronauts to land safely.

It was a difficult thing to decide. The state of the world at the moment guaranteed that wherever they landed would most likely be swarming with the dead or devoid of all life for miles and miles around.

Even despite that the three were out of time. Another meteor shower was on the way and they needed to move now.

Everyone leaned closer towards the radio, trying to hear over the static as chaos ensued.

"We're boarding into the pod now—shhhhh—meteor shower has hit! We've lost engines—shhhhhh—in jeopardy—shhhh—MAYDAY, MAYDAY! WE ARE GOING DOWN!"

There was silence just then and the shaky desperate voice of Bianca cried out after them.

"Sergeant?" Bianca repeated back in terror. "Sergeant, are you still there?"

More static followed, before the voice of Sergeant Miles resonated back, offset and shaky with the loud string of static and system interference. "Mrs. Swan, is this being broadcasted on all frequencies on Earth?"

"As many as we can reach." She confirmed.

"Do you record?"

"We're recording right now."

"We… we have some messages we would like to say."

"Sergeant..?"

"Mrs. Swan," A new voice came through, and judging by the tone and the accent it was assumed that it was the other man, Alek Popkov. "I have message… for my daughter. She is from Samara Russia, her name is Tanya. Tanya Popkov. If she is still alive, please give her message."

"Alright, we're recording it whenever you're ready."

He began to talk just then in a language I couldn't understand, quickly and shakily. From the tone in his voice I could only assume it was heartfelt and meaningful. My heart went out for him and as much as I wished I could understand those words I knew they weren't for me.

The same went for Kimiko. When it was her turn, she was certain to disclose who the message was for just as Alek had.

"This will go to my grandmamma in Lanzhou China. Her name is Yang Lei Zula. She is seventy-five."

"Alright we're recording Kimiku."

Like Alek she too recorded her message in her native language and like the first it was heartfelt yet brief.

When it came to Lee's turn there was an uncomfortable banging that interrupted him.

"Sergeant?"

"I'm here." He said, in a clearly shaken voice. "We're… we're all still here."

"Did you need to say something?"

"Y-yes. This is for Ophelia, Teller, Draco, and Penny Miles in Winchester, Virginia USA."

"Go ahead."

"P-Penny… if you're listening now… well it looks like I owe you that thing we were talking about. I know I said I wouldn't do it, but after careful consideration… I'm pretty sure it's not the worst thing I could do in this world—or out of this world. Teller, please don't hate me. I know you were mad that I left and I can't blame you. I kind of hate me, too. You're the man of things while I'm gone, alright? Draco, you're going to do something incredible. I know you will. Ophelia… I never got to meet you, but if you're with your brothers and mother right now… I hope you know that I look forward to seeing you at last, in whatever life comes next. I love you all and—"

There was a deafening bang just then and there was a short resonating scream from all the astronauts…

And then everything was quiet.

"Sergeant Miles? Zula? Popkov? Hello? Sergeant!" There was only static that answered her. "Come in! Come in!" After a moment she seemed to remember she was still being broadcasted on air and snapped back to her audience fretfully. "Um… ladies and gentlemen it seems we're experiencing some technical difficulties. Please enjoy this poem read by the famous Anthony Hopkins while we continue to try and reestablish communication with the astronauts."

The feed was cut as a somber tune drifted out from the speakers.

 _Do not go gentle into that goodnight_  
Old age should burn and rave a close of day;  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

 _Though wise men at their end know dark is right_  
Because their words had forked no lightning they  
Do not go gentle into that good night

 _Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright_  
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

 _Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight_  
And learned, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
Do not go gentle into that good night

 _Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight_  
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

 _And you, my father, there on the sad height,_  
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray,  
Do not go gentle into that good night

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light"_

We listened to the voice and the dark poem, our hopes dwindling as it read on with the sad music playing behind it, ringing the tune of the astronauts' doom. And even as the last verse was said Bianca's voice did not return and so more music was played to fill the gap of silence. A low steady tune of a violin and a choir came on and we waited, listening to the song.

 _You taught me the courage of stars before you left  
How light carries on endlessly, even after death_

 _With shortness of breath, you explain the infinite  
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist_

 _I couldn't help but ask f_  
or you to say it all again  
I tried to write it down  
But I could never find a pen

 _I'd give anything to hear_  
you say it one more time,  
that the universe was made  
just to be seen by my eyes

 _I couldn't help but ask_  
for you to say it all again  
I tried to write it down  
But I could never find a pen

 _I'd give anything to hear_  
you say it one more time,  
that the universe was made  
just to be seen by my eyes

 _With shortness of breath I'll explain the infinite  
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist_

I felt the sting of terrified tears as the somber voice of Bianca came back on, choked with her own tears after the poem. "Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that I can give you no news on the condition of the astronauts … because someone else would like to do it for me."

There was static and we all held our breaths, then the voice of Sergeant Miles broke through all sound. "Hello beautiful."

There was a simultaneous cheer through the whole room. People laughed and cried through sobs of happiness, relieved and joyous to hear this tremendous spark of hope. I had never seen them so happy and relieved by anything in my life. I myself felt touched on a near spiritual level to hear the miracle of the astronaut's voices.

"Is anyone hurt?"

"We've sustained a few injuries, but I think we'll be walking away from this with some minor bumps and bruises at best, and one hell of a story."

"That's an enormous relief, Sergeant. Can you tell us where you are right now?"

"We're triangulating our position as we speak, but I did recognize the Grand Canyon we were passing during the landing. And I think we've just found out what you were talking about with those dead bodies. Those things are fucking scary—pardon my French."

Bianca stifled a chuckle as her tone grew immediately serious. "If you're anywhere near shelter I suggest you move now. They're much more active at night and it'll be dark in a few hours. They tend to gather in hordes so watch out. Thankfully they're very clumsy so if you get the opportunity to trip one up don't waste it. They're attracted to sound, light and movement. There are several tactics you can use to divert them. You can use their own blood or fluids as camouflage, if you smell like them they won't attack you just as long as you don't draw attention to yourself. When disarming them be sure to puncture the brain. It's the only way to kill them. And if you're bitten... if it's on a limb the only known treatment is amputation anywhere else... and you have a day at the most."

"We'll keep that in mind. This could be the last time you hear from us, Mrs. Swan." He said heavily.

"I understand. I'll pray for you all, Sergeant. Good Luck."

"Thank you."

Bianca turned her attention back to her audience. "I am broadcasting to all available radio frequencies. Anyone who happens to meet these people I implore you, please help them. If not out of decency then do so for your own gain. They are doctors, engineers, scientists, and pilots. Their skills are invaluable and they will contribute greatly to your people." With those final words the show closed and we were left to wonder what was in store for the astronauts.

I begged my father to let us go and find them, but after crunching some numbers we realized they were three thousand miles away. Even so, having no real concept of distance I begged and begged till I finally understood that they were just too far.

We had heard little news regarding the astronauts since that day, so it was anyone's guess whether they were still alive or not.

That broadcast had been over six years ago, but I remember it vaguely. No other evening show had been as exciting as that one. Occasionally Bianca would have a new guest speaker, sometimes she would dedicate an evening broadcast to a fallen friend or ally, but other than that they'd been relatively the same since.

First she started off by greeting the audience, inspiring them with whatever pep-talk or words of wisdom she had prepared that day, and then she went on to list of the importance of the day's date, whether it was a special holiday, a famous person's birthday, if a certain movie had been released in theaters on the day or if it merely bore some kind of significance to someone out there just in general.

Next she went on by honoring those that were no longer with us, should there have been a tragedy anywhere around the world recently, she was certain to extend her condolences as well as a moment of silence in respect towards their memory.

Next depending on what sort of day it was she would play music for a bit. She was conscious that not everyone was a fan of every variety of music so depending on what sort of day it was she would designate it towards a specific genre, pausing between songs to speak with guest speakers and so-called "experts" or "professionals".

I enjoyed a bit of everything though I definitely had my preferences just as everyone else did.

Occasionally she would dedicate the evening to a writer and would play an audio book in honor of their work.

Today was such an occasion and we were all greeted with the intro to the Death of a Salesman.

I groaned inwardly, annoyed by the boring classic and settled in for a dull program tonight. It was going to be hard to stay awake tonight, especially since I had intentions to meet with Vanessa later once everyone was asleep.

Actually this might've worked in my favor as I was able to excuse myself with no suspicion, claiming I had no interest in the particular story and would just read what I wanted to in my room till bedtime. It worked like a charm, and I kept myself active until the sun went down and the rest of my family were tucked away into their own rooms.


	7. Hey there Little Red Riding Hood

**Chapter 7**  
 **Hey there Little Red Riding Hood**

I sauntered through the forest with the moon high on my shoulder. Vanessa's lesson would take place under the goddess tonight to demonstrate the effects of spells under the moon as well to charge water. There were so many things I learned in those first few years, but there always seemed to be more and more to learn.

I had snuck out the moment I knew my father was asleep and arranged my bedding in a way that looked like there was a body under it all. Hopefully that would convince anyone that came to check on me and would buy me a few hours at least.

It was hard to say if it was my imagination, but moon water somehow tasted different to me; softer somehow. Vanessa had instructed me on the effects and purposes of moon water before and it wasn't the first time we would charge it, but tonight was special. Tonight was a blue moon; its powers had a stronger affect.

Spring water was always the best to use in this type of situation and thankfully the island was built atop a glorious one that bubbled it out, crystal clear. The old temple had been built on it specifically for that reason. Back then spring water was considered sacred and pure. Their leaders often performed blessings with it and any healing remedy used by the water had certain amplified properties.

I'm not totally sure if the same properties still existed now, not after the KKK burned down the temple and drove most of the followers out of the area a hundred and fifty years ago. I knew violence sometimes had a way of tainting things, and it may have been that the magic wasn't the same as it once was. Still, the allure of actual spring water was not entirely lost and I already knew it tasted better than our average tap at home.

The water was gathered in a huge glass jar with a spigot and charged atop the ridge of the rocks on the far east side of the island where there were no overhanging walls or tree branches and nothing to obstruct the rays of the moon. It wasn't just water we would be charging though. Vanessa instructed me to get the crystals from the house to lay around the ground as well.

"It's a fine night for magic." Vanessa announced, staring up into the sky at the glimmering moon. Her outline looked much more illuminated and ghostly than usual and the fireflies flitted around like tiny stars. Indeed it was a magical night.

I stared up from my spot on the stone at the flickering bodies of light and sighed. It was times like these that just made me forget about everything. All the horrible awful things didn't seem to really exist and I was able to lose myself in the ambience.

"It's so beautiful," I announced.

"These stones and water will work nicely in the new spells you'll learn." Vanessa said, crouching down. "But there are other ways to charge stones; Name them."

"With the sun?"

"You can, but how?"

"Find a safe place and leave it for a day like with the moon."

"Very good, but the sun's rays are harsh and cause some stones' colors to fade. Can you name a few?"

"Amethyst, celestine, opal and… turquoise?"

"Correct. Kunzite is one more that will fade in the sun. Because of that, we charge them instead with the moon for its gentler and purer light."

The lesson lasted for well over an hour and by the time I was allowed to go home I was yawning wide and practically sleepwalking. Perhaps I should have used the time I spent reading in my room to catch a quick nap before running off into the woods for my lesson. I'd keep that in mind for next time at least.

Hopefully I wouldn't fall asleep on the path and get myself lost before making it back home. Before leaving I grabbed some supplies from the house, thinking I could at least make some deliveries around town before I curled into bed for the rest of the night. I knew Michonne needed some more toothpaste and Mrs. Emming had run out of honey. There were also some various soaps I thought I could drop off and Eric and Aaron's house before I called it a night.

Walking down the path I focused on keeping my eyes opened. It must have been well past midnight when something brought me to full alertness.

My ears perked and I heard scuffling just then. I at first dismissed it as a pair of walkers but immediately realized there were voices to go with it. Curiosity taking hold, I moved closer, dipping behind a bush as I examined the scene.

My eyes narrowed as I focused on the sight. The rest of my tiredness dissolved to anxiety as I took it all in. With an awful feeling I realized I knew these people.

Saviors.

And wonder of all Negan was with them. The slingshot at my belt itched horribly and I wanted dearly to use it but there were far too many of them to chance such a thing; sixteen of them at the very least. And I couldn't be sure it'd kill him rather than just piss him off enough to kill _me_ instead.

Their quarry was a man in the middle of the clearing. They all surrounded him while each took turns hitting whatever part of him they could. I knew the man as one who had raided our town a few years back. I was curious to know what he'd done to get on their bad side, but it looked like the gist of Negan's usual spiel was over.

Just then there was a snap behind me and before I had time to turn a hand slapped over my mouth and an arm was around my waist, hoisting me right off my feet. I immediately began to thrash. I screamed against the hand held over me, my nails dug deep into flesh and my legs flailed out, furious to work free of the ape that ensnared me.

I heard a grunt of pain and then a shout right after I bit him hard on the hand. He dragged me forward despite my struggles and it was only after I slashed hard across his forearm that his grip released and he rather kicked me in the center where the group of people stopped their beating to see this newcomer. I hit hard on my side, my sweater ripping at the elbow as I landed.

"Cunt!" I shouted at the brute impulsively.

"The hell you just call me, you little motherfucker?!" The man looked like he was ready to hit me while he held his bleeding arm. "Fuck, that little shit bit me! Little fuckwad sliced me right across my forearm, too. I'll kill her."

"Tyler, we don't beat on kids. Jesus, what's wrong with you?!" The man held his forearm, doing his best to staunch the blood flow but from the look he gave me I could tell he was ready to draw some of my own blood in retaliation. "This is what you get for not wearing armguards like I told you to. Kendra, help patch him up."

Then he turned down to look at me. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Negan hummed, like some clichéd comic book villain. I wondered if he enjoyed the idea of it, which might've been how he played the act so well.

"Found her hiding over by that bush!" The man who'd grabbed me—or Tyler—announced.

"No kidding." He smiled down at me and I had to suppress a shiver, gripping my knife tighter now. "Hey there Little Red Riding Hood." He said in a singsong tone. I hated the association, mostly because it had actually popped into my head the moment I was dragged into the circle. Negan definitely reminded me of a vicious wolf and it would have been an almost creepy concurrence, but my hood and cloak were green not red, so I wasn't sure how well the comparison worked in this situation.

"Uh my hood is _green_ , thank you very much." I said pointing out what everyone already knew while I got to my feet. My body instinctively stepped into a defensive stance brandishing my knife carefully the way I remember being taught. If Negan tried to kill me I wasn't going down without drawing more of their blood.

This seemed to please him. I didn't cry or tremble or even look scared. I was angry and prepared and Negan seemed to find this incredibly impressive.

The light caught my glare as I looked up at him and the man had a proper look at my face. I knew from his expression that he recognized me, but couldn't quite remember from where. Amusedly, he pointed his bloody bat at me. "I've seen you before. I'm sure I have." He tapped his chin in thought. "Gosh darn, I am having the hardest time placing you. No, no. Don't tell me. I know this."

He debated for another long minute before snapping suddenly. "I know now! You're Rick's daughter. I'm sure of it. It's been a while since I saw you last. You've gotten big, Sweetheart. What was your name again? Jane… or Julie something?"

I stayed quiet. He couldn't have my name. I wouldn't give it to him.

"Not talking, huh?" He looked behind to one of his men. "What she got in the bag, Rob?"

With that someone grabbed my canvas bag and yanked it off of me. Thankfully he hadn't noticed the small trinket pouch I hid under my cloak as he riffled through it.

"Rob huh?" I said sarcastically. "That's appropriate."

"That's exactly what I said." Negan laughed.

"Let's see. We got a compass, three jars of honey, a pouch of… tea I think, towel, first aid kit, some soaps, something white in a jar… smells like toothpaste, a weird… stick thing, box of dried herbs and… Ewe!"

"What?"

"Box of bugs."

Negan looked down at me. "Those are some… unusual items. Pretty heavy too, for someone your size. Not exactly what you would pack for a trip in these woods." He tilted his head as he looked me up and down in consideration. "So what might a little girl like you be doing out here at night, alone, with no one around?" He grinned that shark-like smile, showing off his perfect set of white teeth. "Does your father know you're out here all by yourself?"

"Why? Are you going to run off and rat on me to him?" I challenged, defensive and angrily calling the bluff.

His bark of laughter split all other sound in the clearing.

"No. I'm not one to report someone to the authorities over something so menial as that. I'm just a little concerned, is all. Little girl out here alone," the light glinted on the metal of the barbed wire on his bat as he eyed me, "never know what you might find, _who_ you might meet out here."

"Don't concern yourself." I spat. "Do you think I'd be out here alone if I wasn't entirely sure I could handle it?"

He hummed. "Hmm. Well I guess not, though it honestly breaks my heart to see little kids like that working to be so grown up too soon."

I looked him in the eye, hatred flaring hot in me. "Well sometimes we have to grow up a little sooner than we want to. Childhood is a luxury these days, and well, we don't really have any luxuries left." I gave him an accusing look, refused to swallow his crap, but I wasn't done there. "And 'side's which, I don't think we need to ask what _I'm_ doing out here. This is Alexandria's land and as a citizen I can walk it any damn night I want to. I think the real question is why are _you_ so close to Alexandria this time of night. We already gave you your offering, which is always more than you say you'll take. Why are you lurking in our back yard? Afraid we're going to sneak away in the middle of the night so it leaves you with fewer towns to bully and raid? Yeah I can see why that would make you a little afraid. Then you'd have to fend for yourself, and I recon you're probably not very good at that."

His grin looked a little forced as he chewed his lip in consideration. Then he stepped up to me so close that he towered right over my head like a mountain. He was taller than my dad, but I only craned my neck up, keeping my hated glare fixed on his gaze and refusing to back down or even step back.

He wouldn't intimidate me!

"I'll let that one slide, sugar." He said so softly it was just barely a whisper. "You obviously haven't learned anything from your guardians or from your daddy. They must not be very good teachers if you haven't managed to get the message by now. He ever tell you about what happened the day that Chinese fellow and that ginger died?"

"Glenn was Korean!" I snapped at him, furious by his blatant ignorance. "Even _I_ know the difference, you ignorant, uneducated, self-assured ass-butt!"

There was a low echoing "Ooh…" that pulsed through the circle and most held their breath to see how their conquering hero would respond to such an insult.

What he did instead was laugh loudly. "Ass-butt? Seriously? Okay points for creativity. And I see that he did not tell you what happened."

"He didn't but I know anyways." I shrugged pointing towards his ugly bat. "You ambushed them and because you knew you weren't _man_ enough to beat him in a one on one fight you held everyone hostage so you could satisfy your own twisted bloodlust to freely pulverize my friends. That's what happened. And _I'll_ give _you_ points for being at least smart enough to _know_ you couldn't take him."

There was another conjoined low "ooh," throughout the clearing.

Negan no longer looked amused.

"Well I guess that's the abridged version, but why don't I tell you about the extended edition." He said darkly. I stood my ground glaring up at him in challenge, ready for whatever he did next. He only talked more.

"After Lucile here got done drinking up some of that fine young man, your daddy went off and told me he'd kill me someday, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he'd do it someday. Well I couldn't let him say things like that to me. So then I took him aside and he and I got mighty familiar with one another. Meanwhile my team took the opportunity to educate your dad's friends—the ones that were still _alive_ at least. And when morning rolled around I could tell he still didn't quite get the message so, I called your brother over and I'd let him take it from his son. Really I was pretty fucking impressed with that kid. I drew a line over his arm and told your dad to take his hatchet and chop that sucker off. If he didn't, I'd go down the line and pick each and every one of those bastards off.

"You should have seen how much your father sobbed." He laughed. My heart beat furiously in my throat, my blood boiled, and I could hear a near deafening ringing in my ears as his words painted a picture of that day. I could see the desperation in my father, the terror in everyone else and the stubborn rebellious gleam in my brother's eye. Negan went on and his voice made me so mad it took all of my self-restraint not to take my knife and stab him in the groin.

"That kid had more balls than your dad did. Carl lied out there right in the dirt and was going to take it like a man, clenched teeth and dry eyes the whole way. I thought your dad would die with how much he begged me not to make him do it, but with a bit more coaxing he was ready and prepared to do exactly as I said. But I saw then that he finally got the message so I figured there was no need for that. Poor kid already lost an eye; didn't think there was any call to turn him more crippled."

"If you still haven't learned by now I can go into more graphic details, or I could give you a demonstration right now. So unless you want to find out with a first-hand experience about what it's like to be made someone's bitch I suggest you STOP TRYING TO STARE ME DOWN!" His voice had steadily risen till it was a shout, making my body flinch in shock.

My heartbeat spiked immediately and I heard it pound in my ears, whether from fear, anger, hatred or all three, and I reluctantly dropped my gaze, taking a cautious step back for added measure.

Then his mood turned around so suddenly it was distinctly unnerving. "You know maybe you can help us with something." And he grabbed my arm just then and dragged me forward towards the man in the center of the ring.

"We were all about to teach Roger a similar lesson right here. All of us were just debating on whether we would beat this traitorous pig to death right here, but now that you've shown up I think I have a better idea." Then he turned to the man called Roger. "You hear that? You might cut yourself a break, Roger. Maybe if this girl is caring enough she may just save your life."

This time _I_ scoffed. "Why would you assume I would care about a person I know nothing about?"

He staggered and his grin widened. "DAMN! That. Is. Cold! How old are ya' kid?"

I didn't want to tell him, but I couldn't think of a witty enough reply to avoid it so I just answered. "Ten… in five days."

"Wow. Well happy birthday, then. Double digits, that's gotta be exciting for ya. Tell you what, in honor of your birthday I'll give you a present. Since providence sent you to us, I'm going to give you the rare opportunity to decide for us what we should do with this guy."

I stared, stunned entirely. Was he serious? I looked at the man and my memory of him clicked. A wash of unbridled power and fury fell over me just then. Negan had just given me a rare opportunity to execute a miniscule bit of justice for what had been done to us. A cold expression took over my features as the man looked at me with hope.

He disgusted me, but I played the part anyways. "I think that depends on who he is and what he did."

"Well it just so happens that Roger here—,"

I cut him off sharply. "Let him explain it. I'd like to hear the story he's come up with first."

Negan's brows went up in surprise, undecided if he would get angry or not, but then decided to shut his yap for once. Everyone's eyes turned to the one on the ground. "I-it wasn't a big deal. She said yes you see and…"

"Stop." I cut him off with my hand, disinterested in whatever his excuse was even before he had a chance to start. "I'm not talking about _that_. I don't care about _that_. Let _me_ tell you what you did." There was silence and confusion and I looked at the man without mercy. "You stole all our medicine. You said half our medicine and you took it all. Thanks to that, my friend had a bad fall in the following weeks and broke her leg. She developed a blood clot and a fever and we had no antibiotics to treat that fever with. Now I have to pass her grave every day reminded of why that is. _**That's**_ the only story I'm interested in."

A long stunned silence followed before Negan talked— _again_.

"Ooh." Negan said, swinging his barbed wire bat lazily. "Well damn. Is that true, Roger. Did you really take all their medicine?"

He looked terrified and defeated. "…I …Yes."

Negan whistled low. "Yikes. I guess providence wasn't too kind after all." He turned to me, grin still on his face. "Well what would you like to do with him, birthday girl?"

He was expecting I would turn away; that I would show mercy because I was a child. He was wrong. Instead I imagined it was him, Negan, I was sentencing. What did I want to happen to Negan? The man who broke my father, the man who killed Abraham and Glenn and haunted him still? The man who drove Maggie into hiding to protect herself from him? The man that took nearly everything we had including our hope and dignity and kept demanding more, and more, and more?

What did I want to do to him?

"Find a large herd, strip him as he stripped us, and toss him in. Let _providence_ do the rest after that."

The man's eyes went wide and he turned chalk white in the moonlight.

"Whoa," Negan said, looking torn between shocked and impressed. "I was just going to let everyone beat you to death. I thought a bullet to the brain would be the worst the kid came up with, but damn…"

Roger looked completely panicked. "No. No! Please Negan! Not that! Anything but that!"

"Sorry sport." Negan said, shrugging with an enormous grin on his face. "The judge has spoken." He waved and the men loaded him in the truck.

Silently, I backed away, slipping into the forest while everyone's attention was turned to the panicking, thrashing man. It was good he created such a commotion, I needed a fair distraction for my escape and in the cover of the forest I heard Negan jump when he realized I had vanished.

"I suppose you'll want to wa—what the! The hell did she go? You guys see where she went?"

"She just pulled a Batman on you." Someone else piped up.

"Well go find her!" He ordered to a few surrounding men, but I was already sprinting away.

It peeved me that I had to leave my bag, but it didn't matter. I considered my life more important than some jars of honey and dried flowers. I could replace everything in there, though it did irritate me that I lost the beetles I'd been gathering for five months and my dowsing rod, but not even those were worth more than my life.

It was a good thing I knew the forest well, even in the darkness. It was even better that the loud groans and moans of an approaching herd of walkers would mask whatever sounds I made as I escaped and take care of the ones that were pursuing me. Maybe the beasts wouldn't kill them but they would at least let me lose them.

They might've known where Alexandria was, but I didn't want to be looking over my shoulder for them as I went back.

I decided not to use the sewage tunnel, believing the secret may be compromised were I to get in that way. The wall was safe as I crossed over and the spikes lining the perimeter were clean, but I still looked back, waiting in the darkness to see if I could spy any stalkers on the path.

I saw none, but it didn't diminish the looming feeling of pursuit on my back as I turned to climb the wall, hopping on the hood of one of the surrounding cars and scaling up, rolling down the grassy hill that braced against the iron. Even with the plates between me and the threats, it didn't feel quite safe. It never felt safe.

I climbed the tree outside of my bedroom and slipped through the window. The house was silent while I pulled on my pajamas, still in the dark, and crawled onto my sleeping mat on the floor. The brand new wool-stuffed mattress felt good and soft and I was tired. But I continued to lie awake long into the night, thinking over and over about my encounter with Negan.

His perfect white smile stayed in my head even when I shut my eyes. How possible was it to feel so much hatred for one person? I felt the hate may have chewed me up starting first in my chest and more and more till there was nothing left of me.

I closed my eyes but it was hours before I finally fell asleep.

* * *

 _I was naked from head to foot. Hands were on me and I could hear the growls of my worst nightmares on the other side of the doors. The van stopped suddenly and I tipped to the side with the momentum. Just then the doors were thrown wide opened and hands were pushing me out. My arms remained bound as I was tossed into the green and gray crowd. Teeth tore into my body. Nails raked against my skin. My mouth opened and a gurgling spout of red shot from my throat._

My body reacted and I jolted suddenly. A fighting animalistic scream burst from my mouth as I shot straight up. I swatted and kicked, forgetting where I was as I stared around myself in horror. A cold sweat pooled at the back of my neck and forehead and I fought for breath.

Banging sounded somewhere outside and I looked up to watch my father burst inside the room.

"Judith!" He cried, looking crazed and terrified but still ready for a fight all the same. An army knife was in his hand and he brandished it threateningly. "What is it? What happened?"

I swallowed, gaining control of myself as I slowly began to realize what was happening. "Nothing." I announced. "Nothing. Just a bad dream." My hand went to my heart and I felt it pounding against my ribs like a base drum.

There was a loud sigh of relief as my father knelt and put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at him with watery eyes, before falling into his arms and crying right against him. He held me as I stayed there, wrapped up and warm, letting me calm down a bit before speaking.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"N-no." I answered immediately, sniffing and sobbing. It felt nice to just be there, to have him hold me. Tenderly he began to stroke back my hair, the same way he used to before everything became a giant mess. How long had it been since I was held like this by him?

It felt like eternity.

He kept holding me straight till I calmed down. Finally there was silence as I sniffed myself back to composure. My thoughts turned to my dream, still lingering over me like a ghostly fog. I knew what had happened. Roger was dead, executed in the exact way I had sentenced him to. But in it, it had felt like I was the one being torn apart. Was that my punishment for what I had done? Would Roger haunt me now?

I cringed in terror, but tried to convince myself not to jump to the worst. But why shouldn't I? I had just sentenced a man to a fate worse than death. I was a horrible person. I was damned for such a monstrous crime.

Then I was distracted by my father's embrace on me. I thought of why I did it in the first place. I thought of my anger and hatred for what had been done to our family and people, and all the things I would do for them when given the choice.

"Y—you know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, right Dad?" I said softly. I felt his arms stiffen as I said those words. "I… I just want you to be okay. I want everyone to be okay. And I want to take care of them and keep them safe."

He was so stunned by my unexpected words that he didn't say anything for a moment. "No, y-you're not supposed to be taking care of anyone, Judith." Dad announced holding me tighter. "That's our job. You're… you're so young to be thinking like that."

"Then when _will_ I be old enough to think like that?"

He didn't answer so instead he enforced his hold till the sun came up and it was time to start the day.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: It's so late right now, but I wanted to get this particular chapter posted before I turned in. I'm so tired.**


	8. Mary had a Little Ram

**Chapter 8  
Mary had a Little Ram **

It felt good to walk in the forest. It was the only place I actually felt safe. Negan was in our town today and I never wanted to see him again if I could help it. I always made it a point to disappear on days he showed up. No one discouraged it even if I had school, though he tended to arrive by the time we were let out. As much as I hated him there was a small bright side to his visits. I could stay out as late as I wanted and no one would come looking for me. My father especially didn't want me anywhere within sight of that asshole, though I'm not sure if he would approve of me being outside of the fence more or less.

My thoughts wandered to our encounter in the forest a week ago and I wondered if he would say anything about it. He had said he wouldn't but I doubted he would keep his word; he rarely did. I suspected if he wasn't going to say anything about that in particular he'd at least ask where I was. With a sinking feeling I believed I had unintentionally caught his interest now.

The idea sent shivers up my spine and made my heart pound in anxiety, so I tried to distract myself with other thoughts.

He would take more things today and I'd compensate by bringing something new back. Maybe it wouldn't be as much as he took away but it would be something. I could go to the honey tree and bring back more jars, since he took the three I was planning to give to a few people who would appreciate them, I could check the snares, or I could go to the river and fish for a while. I was good at fishing. Large fish we could eat; small fish we could use as fertilizer but I wasn't all that sure I was up for fishing right now.

I decided to go to the island instead. Having a body of water between me and everything else felt infinitely safer. I loved the island; the one roomed witch's cottage complete with an actual cauldron, mystical spinning wheel, spell ingredients, the magical garden, and the attic filled with treasures and artifacts of the past. It was like something out of a fairy tale; my own secret place that was guarded by magic and an enchanted forest, full of dangerous beasts that would allow only me to pass through.

Yeah… sometimes I really did feel like I was in a fairy tale. Maybe hundreds of years from now people would tell it like some kind of bedtime story to their children. I wasn't sure how it was bound to be told. I guess the story had yet to be written.

I got lost in thought while I followed the path towards the island, when suddenly something knocked me off my feet.

I face planted in the dirt just then and my butt suddenly recognized the sensation left on it.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I yelled as I crawled up to my feet.

Just as I predicted there was the culprit responsible for sending me to the ground.

"Ram Dover! What are you doing outside of the walls?" I yelled at him, shoving against his horns. "Go home, you bad sheep!"

He did nothing but shove back at me, making my feet slide in the dirt with his strength.

Just then I heard yelling off in the distance and recognized the voices as several people from our town, probably here to chase after the missing livestock. I couldn't afford them catching the ram and catch me in addition so I hastily tugged on the horn, leading him where we could easily lose the pursuers.

I heard moaning just then and spotted a small herd of walkers. At the sight of the sheep they hobbled forwards but with me so close to their quarry they seemed to change their mind. The yelling from our pursuers diverted them and I considered leaving Ram Dover to bring their attentions away from our friends.

I finally decided against it. My friends had experience and there were only a few of these undead. We only had one ram and if he died we lost a whole flock. It would distract our friends and I could return later with Ram Dover once the Saviors had left.

For the moment I reluctantly allowed the sheep to remain as my traveling companion. We walked until I was sure our pursuers had been diverted by the herd. Hopefully they hadn't been surprised and hopefully no one was dead or hurt.

"Alright," I said to him, keeping a hand on one of his horns the same way an adult might keep a hand on the ear of a misbehaving child, "You can come, it's not like I have any other choice about it, but if you knock me over one more time, you can find your way home one your own."

He gave me a responding baa, and followed along. Even knowing that we were well on our own now, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, following along in the distance. Every time I looked over my shoulder though, there was no one there, no one that had dodged out of the way at the last moment but I felt them on my back even so. I was sure now that I definitely didn't want to take him to the island. It seemed now as though it were in danger of being discovered by more than just a renegade ram.

I kept walking with the ram at my side. If nothing else I could at least see if I could bring back some dinner.

The snares should have been alright, assuming nothing had beat me to them. Fishing and checking the honey tree seemed productive in addition to that. There was also a patch of wild raspberries and blackberries that should have been good to gather. They ought to have been ripe enough by now. Surely they were.

Sudden barks and loud yelping interrupted my thoughts just then and I recognized the sounds of the local pack of wild dogs. I would have sprinted but they weren't hunting. They were being hunted—or attacked it sounded like. Curiosity winning out over common sense, I moved towards the sounds and came upon a grove where a den was dug into the earth around a large pine.

All around me were bodies of the pack as dozens of walkers tore large chunks of their hides off. The yelping was unbearable as I witnessed the creatures being slaughtered. I didn't really think it through before I grabbed a large stick and leapt down, swinging it wildly at the monsters.

"GO! Get out of here!" I shouted, swinging it back and forth.

They looked up from their food by the commotion but at the sight of me, they began to move slowly away.

For the dogs that were already dead, I could do nothing for. The dogs that were dying, I was only able to put them out of their misery.

I always hated this part, as necessary as it was. Vanessa and John had instructed me on it. Either snap their necks or burry a knife in their skulls was the way to kill an animal. The cute ones were always the hardest.

I still remember the first time I held a rabbit in my arms and was directed to break its neck.

It was awful.

I still feel how it stayed so still in my arms, so trusting yet frightened, almost like so long as it remained calm, it may appeal to my better nature. It was agony to snuff that hopeful little gaze out.

With wounded animals, like these ones, it was a bit easier.

They were in such pain and I knew there was not a thing I could do for them other than try to alleviate some of that pain. But I knew better than to approach any of them. Walkers often carried diseases, dogs too, not to mention they'd be even more vicious now that they knew their time was limited.

I tossed knives at them instead.

I was good at tossing knives. I was good with a slingshot as well—better in fact. I had tried a bow and arrow before but they always seemed so bulky and hard to maneuver for me. So I opted with the knives and slingshots instead. They were small, lightweight, good to aim, and easier to conceal in my clothes.

When finished, it looked like the walkers had killed off the whole pack of seven dogs.

I felt bad. They had been my only real competition out here; they were mean, vicious, and more dangerous even than walkers, but we had shared these woods together. It didn't feel right how they had gone.

Just then Ram Dover moved towards the den. I had almost forgotten he was there before he bayed.

"No, Dover, stay out of…"

I trailed off as I looked inside. I guess the whole pack hadn't died after all.

Inside the den were around five small bundles of fur; puppies. Judging from their closed eyes and their frailty they couldn't have been more than a couple weeks old at the most.

I knew what would happen to them were I to turn around right now.

They would die; plain and simple as that. Their pack was dead and no one would take care of them or protect them from the walkers.

I thought about leaving them anyways, but somehow Ram Dover looked at me accusingly as if reading my mind.

"We won't be able to keep them." I told him. He kept staring at me in that accusing sort of way. "It's not that easy!" I stated, trying to shake his expression. He just continued to fix me with that stare.

"I thought you were a sheep here! Don't you hate these things?" He only stared.

It would be nearly impossible to feed them, when it was hard to even feed ourselves some times, but I just couldn't bring myself to turn away.

"Alright already! Geez, you don't have to yell at me!"

Grudgingly I pulled off my new knapsack.

Rearranging things a bit, I managed to convert the bag into a makeshift carrier and placed the puppies inside one at a time. They were small, so that was good at least, but I worried the bag would suffocate them. I left the flap opened and arranged them side by side so they had the easiest access to fresh air.

Going back home was a little harder than I anticipated. I needed to walk carefully, and the ram by my side, while he hadn't plowed into me again so far, kept knocking into my side and throwing me off my path. Perhaps he understood I was his only protection against the dead things lurking around the woods and so long as he stayed at my side, none of them would come near him.

When I reached home, I was just in time to watch as Negan and his crew was loading up. But before going he turned to my father and I managed to be close enough to catch what was said.

"Crying shame I missed your daughter before she went on that big run with your other people. Hope she gets back safely." He turned, his sickening white smirk catching the sun as he looked back. "Can't imagine what kind of a loss that might do to someone like you…"

I wanted so badly to hit him with something, maybe use my slingshot to teach him a lesson, but I stayed rooted, straining my ears to hear what he said.

"You know I was wondering how you got those sheep in the first place. What's this "elf" talk going on? Got a wanderer in the woods watching your backs now?"

"I wouldn't really know." Dad said calmly. "Sometimes we find things it leaves us. Food mostly." My heart began to speed up. "Remedies it might manufacture itself. Sometimes honey. Nothing you'd probably be interested in, though."

My heart caught in my throat by the mention of honey and I knew at that moment that Negan realized it at the same time.

"We never see it and it doesn't seem to be out to do us harm."

Negan was silent for a long dreadful moment, long enough to make my stomach tie in all sorts of horrible knots.

"Anyone who wonders alone in the woods at a time like this in history," He began with an unsettling smirk, "without joining the people they're helping, does it because they've got a _secret_. I'm surprised you haven't worked harder to find out what that secret is." I hated the way he said the word "secret" and knew he was determined to find out what _my_ secret was long before my father could figure it out. I wanted to shrink right into the ground I stood on and not move ever again.

I was almost entirely petrified as I watched him turn after bidding my father goodbye and telling him when they would be back again. Then he climbed into one of the two carts he brought with him today and sped off with Dad watching them go, making sure they were out of sight before he turned back into Alexandria. I waited maybe one minute before I rushed up myself and tied Ram Dover to the outside gate, leaving the puppies in a crate lined with a towel from one of the broken down surrounding houses.

Ram Dover bayed loudly, drawing the attention of the guard who wasted no time in bringing him back inside along with the puppies.

When I returned through my usual route I spotted my Dad as he was coming down the road from the main entrance. His gaze seemed a bit haunted just then as he caught sight of me. With hardly any emotion he walked up to me and said very quietly, "Git home."

I had no idea what was going through his mind but I sensed something serious was about to happen, so without a word I obeyed. He followed behind, being sure that I got home without making any detours.

Once the door had shut behind him, I looked up, waiting for what he would say.

"How long have you been going out of the walls alone?"

I stared at him. His face wasn't angry; in fact it was entirely expressionless. I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling right now and the uncertainty of it was what unnerved me the most.

"I…" There were no words that I could think of.

"I know you've been out there." He said. "How long have you been going out there?"

I looked away from his eyes. "A while."

"Do you want to tell me why?"

" _Why_ not?" I shrugged, being indifferent towards the idea.

"Because you're a child, Judith." He announced voice growing steadily sterner. "There are an infinite number of things out there that can kill you and I don't think you understand that."

"I _do_ understand that, Dad." I said looking back at him. "That's why I'm still alive in the first place. I can last longer out there than anyone."

His face seemed to flinch involuntarily by that.

"Are you the elf?"

I couldn't meet his gaze. "Yes."

He didn't look like he totally believed it. "How is that possible? All the things we've gotten over these past years. How did you even find them?"

I wasn't sure I could tell him about my friend who left so long ago and had been the culprit for our most outrageous and successful foraging voyages. Such things would have been impossible for me to have accomplished alone and Dad knew it.

"…You had help. Didn't you?"

Silently I nodded.

"What happened to them?"

I looked at the ground and sighed, working hard to keep my eyes dry as I answered. "He's just gone, Dad. He left me, and he's not coming back."

I focused on the ground, unable to look him in the eye while he processed the wave of sudden discovery.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

My head snapped up and I stared back at him in shock. This was one of three questions we asked newcomers before we let anyone join us. They were the questions we asked to see if someone could be trusted or not. Now my father was questioning his trust in me by asking me the same three questions.

"Dad!" I gasped in appall. "Are you really asking me those questions right now?"

"How many walkers have you killed?" He said more firmly.

I didn't drop my gaze. "One."

His face flashed with a stunned streak by the thought of such a low number, but he continued without commenting on it. "How many people have you killed?"

My fists clenched tightly. "Just one."

He wasn't surprised by that.

"Why?"

My brain racked for an answer he would believe. "I guess… because I've just been lucky."

"Exactly!" He said. Every inch of his body was tense with seriousness. Then he leaned down putting his hands on my shoulders to look me dead in the eye. "You've been lucky! That's the only reason you managed to stay alive for this long. But that luck is going to run out, Judith and I'm not letting you go out there again to watch that happen."

"You can't protect me forever, Dad."

"It's still my job to try." He stretched up to his full height and looked down at me. "By the way, why did Negan ask about you? He's never done that before."

I didn't say anything, but he figured it out anyways. "You met him in the woods, didn't you?"

Dropping my gaze, I nodded.

"That's how he knew it was your birthday."

Again I nodded.

"What happened?" He said, almost frantically. His imagination was running wild and I could tell from his gaze that a million horrible possibilities were running unchecked through his head at such a terrifying idea.

"I wasn't hurt." I said easing his worries a bit. "I was just walking and I heard him and his men beating someone up. They caught me. Negan recognized me but couldn't remember from where for a moment. Then he did. He thought it was funny and he wanted to know why I was outside the wall so late and actually wanted to know if you knew I was out there on my own. I got angry at him and dared him to tell on me to you." Just then I glared back at him in a scandalized way. "Did he really tell on me to you?"

Dad looked very much like he wanted to face palm about now. "You're missing the point. And I _do_ figure some things out on my own. You're not as discreet as you think." He steered me back to my retelling and I continued.

"Well they searched me and took my bag. And…"

"And what?"

"…I might've challenged him a bit."

"You challenged him?"

I nodded. "Then he told me about the night that Glenn and Abraham died."

He froze and his eyes grew to the size of saucers. His whole face seemed to drain of all color while he stared back at me.

"H-how much did he tell you?" His face looked utterly terrified.

"Just most of what I already knew." I whispered. "He bashed their heads in. He made everyone watch. Then his men beat each and every one of them." We both flinched at the imagery and Dad's hands tightened on my shoulders, trembling slightly.

"And…?"

"And then… he said that you and him got familiar with one another." I still didn't understand what that meant but it was plain from his expression that was an enormous understatement. Something crossed over his face by it, like the shadow of something so dark there were no words for it.

"Dad?" I whispered, reaching out for him carefully. "Dad, are you alright?"

"I—I…" He didn't answer for one long terrifying moment. His head bowed and he looked suddenly very sick and faint.

"Dad!" I grabbed his shoulder, attempting to steady him.

"I'm fine." He said, regaining his composure. "I'm fine. Just go on. Tell me what happened next."

I hesitated while I watched if he would stumble again before feeling confident enough to keep going.

"After he said that he threatened and shouted at me and I got scared. It seemed like what he wanted because he backed off after that. Then he wanted my help with something." Dad tensed again. "He wanted me to decide what we would do with the man he had beaten up."

"And what did you say?"

A lump formed in the back of my throat at the thought of it. I was so angry, tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. "I-I knew him—alright! I recognized him because he was one of the men that stole all our medicine. I was just so angry! I hated him. I imagined it was Negan and I thought about what I wanted to be done to him so… so I…"

He waited for me to finish and when I finally found the courage to speak again I said it all in a frantic rush as if it would hurt less if I said it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

"I told them to strip him and throw him in a herd!"

His grip on me loosened and he looked shocked. "Judith…"

"I know okay!" I shouted tears bursting from my eyes. "He let me decide and I… I didn't … I was just so…" His arms encircled me and I sobbed in his chest. "I hate them! I hate them all! I want the worst things ever to happen to them! Abraham's gone, Glenn can't be at peace, Maggie's in hiding, everyone is scared to death, and… they broke you! Out of everything that's happened—that just…"

He looked like he wanted to die when I said those words.

"Did they make you watch?"

"No… I slipped away while the man was panicking. No one even knew I was going until I was gone. They couldn't catch me."

He breathed a deep sigh of relief after that and relaxed, if only slightly.

"Nothing else happened?"

"No. I came home after that."

"Did they watch you come back?"

"No. They didn't. I'm sure they didn't. They would have caught me and dragged me back to watch otherwise. I know they would've."

He was quiet for another very long moment.

"You're lucky." He said lowly, "God, you're lucky you got away. But you can't rely on luck anymore. There's not enough of it left in the world. You're never leaving these walls alone again, you hear me? If you go out, you take Carl, me, or Michonne with you. No exceptions."

I nodded. It was only fair.

"Also, you're grounded… forever."

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Ugh! You know what the hardest thing about writing is, in my opinion?**

 **When the best time to introduce things are.**

 **I've been working on this thing for months! The chapter with the Radio Host was one of the single factors for why it took me so long to post this particular story in the first place. I desperately wanted to include it and I wasn't going to post it until I'd worked out the kinks.**

 **Another hard thing that I find with writing is foreshadowing. It's so tacky to just present things out of the blue without preceding cues.**

 **But as peeved as that makes me, I find it extremely difficult to hone that particular technique.**

 **I've struggled with a few scenes I really, really wanted to add in this thing and you've no idea how hard it was for me to work out when the best times to include them were. I'm a crazy sort of person who doesn't exactly write in chronological order but writes my favorite scenes first, arranges them accordingly, and then fills in the blanks later. I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense but if I don't do it that way then I'm going to forget the scene and I won't be able to remember it later or at least write it the way I first intended it, when it was fresh in my mind.**

 **If you liked it or wanted to offer some insight feel free to leave a comment.**


	9. A Wolf at the Door a Puppy at the Window

**Chapter 9  
A Wolf at the Door and a Puppy at the Window**

The puppies were greeted with mixed feelings around the town. Some people argued we couldn't feed them all, others like Rosita latched on to one right away and refused to give hers up.

It was finally decided that if anyone wanted them they were required to take care of them on their own. Dad made me take one, since he now knew I was the mysterious elf that had been leaving things on our doorstep, though he thankfully kept that information private. I had found them so I was responsible for the majority of them anyways, though Rosita and Enid both helped a lot with nurturing them.

Back when the USA was still a functioning nation, Rosita used to volunteer at a local animal shelter and had been responsible for any abandoned puppies and kittens the facility took in, and that included feeding them. She showed us how to make formula for them with goat's milk, eggs, yogurt, mayonnaise, and some corn syrup we found hidden in the town pantry.

It didn't smell as bad as I thought it would, and when offered to the blind babies in some old bottles, they guzzled it all hungrily. We had to feed them every three hours and it was hard-pressed caring for them. One of them died in that first week. Rosita figured it was from pneumonia and she buried him in the graveyard next to Deanna's stone.

The others seemed to remain stable till the end of ten more days when their eyes opened and they began to actually walk rather than scoot around on their tummies. I started to favor a grey one with a white spot on the middle of its chest which I thought looked a bit like a star. I started calling him Sheriff after that.

I wasn't all that popular with the other kids in town, but puppies were like some kind of magical kid-nip or something that attracted them as easily as flies to honey. They never let slip an opportunity to pat one of them on the head when I came by.

Rosita chose one that was bright red with a white underbelly and called him Lincoln. He was a little slower than the others and slightly rounder in addition. She said he resembled a bit like a corgi.

Father Gabriel also took one that was white with two odd sort of brown streaks on her back-or wings as he decided. Angel seemed an appropriate name for her after that, and not just because of the wings but because she seemed to be the sweetest one in the litter.

The last one went to Enid who grew fond of the quiet black dog with bi-colored eyes, one blue and the other brown. She was by far the most beautiful dog among the four and was given a name that seemed just as perfect; Eclipse. This pup walked with a silent steady grace, and resembled the elegance and mystery of a lone wolf and was so much different from the others who were much more energetic and playful.

I loved those dogs. All of them.

They were such fluffy little things. When I fed them they'd give off tiny mews and barks and curl close to me, eager for affection and warmth. It rolled off of me in waves for them and I wondered if this was how parents felt when holding their children for the first time. I felt like a mama wolf with her little pups around her and wondered how I could have ever thought to leave them behind when Ram Dover and I came upon their attacked den.

I didn't like thinking about that moment. It made a large stab of guilt swirl all around me for such a heartless thought. Even if other people would have looked at them like burdens I knew, without a doubt, that I did the right thing.

Once they were big enough to eat solid foods they were handed out to their individual owners and followed them around everywhere. Even Little Sherriff tailed me whenever he could. Quite often, he found ways to escape the house or the back fence of our yard to look for me around town. He could find me anywhere. Even at school.

During my incarceration there was an awkward situation that took place right during class. I was sitting in my seat when Mrs. Lakely's lecture on the history of the United States was cut off abruptly by someone knocking on the door. All attention was diverted just then to find Negan standing in the doorway. I had never known our class to fall silent so fast.

"Um… c-can I help you, sir?" She said awkwardly.

"I just thought I'd see how the youth of Alexandria were doing these days."

She looked deeply uncomfortable with this idea. "Oh… uh… well no one told me you'd be dropping in and I'm… I don't…"

"Oh don't mind me." He said strolling in and taking a seat at one of the empty back tables which were used to explain the separate level math work we were all at, individually. "Go on with what you were saying. Just pretend I'm not here."

That was way easier said than done.

He faced forward and waited for the lesson to resume with apt attention on everyone. I faced forward before his eyes caught on me and kept my head down, knowing perfectly why he was here now. My neck got hot and I felt sick as I took in the shock of all my classmates.

I could hear everyone murmuring around me in hushed and fearful voices.

"Why is he here?"

"I thought he wasn't allowed…"

"Do you think it's because we're in trouble?"

"Well he must not have liked what he got today."

"You don't think he's here to take it out on us, do you?"

I remained silent, unable to move in my seat or contribute anything to the stunned conversations being thrown around. Eventually, Mrs. Lakely brought everyone's attention back towards her lecture, though it looked like she herself was having trouble concentrating with the intimidating audience.

It wasn't the first time he had sat in during a school activity. A few years ago he was present for the annual Christmas program and, let's just say, that had ended rather catastrophically. Though, I guess _technically_ he hadn't intentionally caused it, I still consider his attendance to be the foundation of why it ended with such a proverbial mushroom cloud.

* * *

 _ **Flashback**_ **  
**I had had bad experiences with plays in the past. From the time I was very small I was prone to causing all sorts of trivial disturbances during our seasonal programs. Making faces while other children were in the middle of solos, picking my nose and stooping to wipe it on the floor, making spit bubbles with my mouth and tong, or merely swinging my arms back and forth instead of following the choreography along with everyone else the way we had been drilled to do for weeks.

For me it was the seasonal production of utter torment. I'm sure in my own personal version of hell there is a stage set with small children that is standing in a line to sing the worst choir songs ever fathomed forever and ever. And I am stuck as one of them; Stuck forever in a ridiculous costume singing off-pitch to the prompting of the lackadaisical efforts of a pianist who's too tone deaf to tell the difference between an F sharp and a C flat.

Even so, I wasn't the only one who dreaded those events. My antics were often met with identical looks of mortification from my family as they sat within the audience. Once I remember my father spending the better part of a whole spring concert with his head in his hands while I used the time digging for earwax absently, swinging my arms back and forth, making faces of boredom during solos, and doing jumping jacks instead of following the Itsy Bitsy Spider routine the instructor had taught us.

The year before the whole Negan and Savior mess we did a rendition of the Nativity Story. At this time, I was just beginning to learn more about Pagan cultures and traditions; I had an interest in them even before I met Vanessa. There was this book on the history of holidays that I pored over with great intrigue.

During a lesson on the birth of Christ and why we celebrate Christmas I interrupted Mrs. Lakely to stand up and tell everyone it was completely inaccurate because from the evidence found in the Bible and other scriptures, Jesus was born in late fall and not winter seeing as how it was doubtful any shepherd would have been out in the fields during such a bitter season. Furthermore, Christians had just stolen all these traditions from Pagan faiths. I went on to describe how the Bible was written by a bunch of sexist prejudice old men who kept contradicting themselves.

"They go on in circles about everything!" I announced. And I was so annoyed about it that I just couldn't stop ranting. "Really they say over and over again ' _Do not learn the ways of the nations… they cut down a tree out of the forest and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with hammer and nails so it will not totter._ ' But after about maybe a hundred years of stealing traditions from other cultures they had the nerve to go off and say that cutting down the tree symbolizes the death of Jesus and that to stand it back up with tinsel and decorations symbolizes his glorious resurrection."

All I was trying to say was that if you're going to have a bleep about something, make sure you cover your ass about it!

I wasn't done with my rant as I went on to say the scripture strictly states that we aren't allowed to even celebrate these customs as it looked down upon all traditions stemming from any faith that wasn't Christianity since everyone who doesn't recognize Jesus as the savior is doomed to a life in hell anyways.

I was on a roll but before I could get very far everyone yelled at me like _I_ was the bad guy.

One of the older girls, Lizzie Pelzer was her name, told me to shut up and that I was only a dumb little kid and my word was garbage.

My patience in all of this had been stretched thin and I ended up throwing a music book at her head. She cried about, so I was sent out and reported to my parents. I had secretly hoped that the burst of aggression would at least ban me from the performance but I was only grounded. Dad made me perform in the play anyways. I was given the humiliating role of a sheep and was told to follow one of the shepherds around on my hands and knees when they approached the manger.

While waiting outside though, Lizzie and her posse dumped snow down the back of my costume and I got so mad that I tore off her cardboard angle wings. After that, the teacher decided that since I was such a problem child I was told to sit in the audience with my family rather than having me on stage to cause another ruckus.

That was just fine with me! I wasn't there for other people's entertainment, anyways. They could sing to amuse themselves if they wanted-just leave me out of it!

The next day was Christmas. Unfortunately, that year Santa seemed to have skipped our house and whatever presents were waiting for me were withheld till next year. I received only a letter, explaining Santa's disappointment in me for my lack of self-control for the play and maybe I would be better by my birthday.

As an added disappointment, the outburst did not ban me for life. The following year an even bigger catastrophe unfolded.

The winter when I was seven the school was performing a play for a Christmas Hansel and Gretel. It was the adult's meager attempt to inspire cheer and goodwill among the community. Yet it did nothing to make people forget the situation we were still in with Negan and the Saviors.

The only one who showed any enthusiasm was Lizzie who'd been chosen to hold the main role of Gretel while a boy named Jim was chosen to be Hansel. Her irritating cheerful attitude grated on my nerves and I auditioned for the role of the Wicked Witch just to be given the opportunity to boss her around for a while and force her head into an over, even if it was only for pretend. It didn't go as planned since I was too short to pull off such a role and it was given to Lizzie's best friend Dora.

Instead, I was sentenced to the mortifying role of a cursed gingerbread girl who sang a song with two gingerbread boys about being imprisoned as cookies by the evil witch… And. It. Was. Dumb!

My costume consisted of white, pink, and teal striped candy cane tights, a short pleated blue and white skirt, and a brown sweatshirt with blue and pink puffballs sewn on it to resemble gumdrop buttons. To add to this humiliation my hair was tied up in two pigtails with bright pink and white striped ribbons, much like my candy cane tights.

Mrs. Lakely had assured me that I looked _adorable_ , but my reflection spoke better truth; I looked _ridiculous_. The idea of dressing up in that horrifying monkey suit and putting on a show for everyone repulsed me so much that I'd purposefully skip on practice whenever I could. That didn't last long, though. When my dad found out what I'd been doing he personally dragged me to the performance hall every day after that.

Soon enough, the day of the play arrived and I stood with my companions on stage as we began to sing awkwardly. Before walking out though, I caught sight of a paint can someone had carelessly forgotten to remove from stage. It looked like it was anchoring one of the cut-out forest props so it wouldn't fall down so then maybe it hadn't been forgotten so much as positioned in the hope that no one would notice it.

My attention turned as the music began and the three of us started to sing.

"We three children under a spell!  
Cookies now is how we do dwell!  
Free us sister, Free us brother,  
To return us to our fathers and mothers"

I sang nervously with the two gingerbread boys when suddenly, to my complete horror, I spotted several Saviors standing in the back along with Negan, of all people, leaning in one of the chairs as he sat with my dad, Michonne and Carl. Curious and angry glances from surrounding Alexandrians were shot towards him, but no one could say anything about this outrage even when they wanted to. So, they remained reluctantly silent about their attendance as the play proceeded.

My eyes widened with horror when Negan looked right at me and the words to the song instantly faltered in my throat.

 _How did he know about the play? Why did he have to come and make this whole embarrassing moment ten times worse?_

My mind went entirely blank and I choked. The words of the song! They were completely gone, and the two other kids were following me. When they realized my voice was no longer audible, they stopped singing as well and looked around timidly for guidance. A cold sweat broke out on my neck and I stood there in total silence.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Lizzie on the other side of the stage, dressed in her Gretel costume and glaring at me hard enough to spit fire out of her eyes. I didn't sing for three more lines and the rest copied me.

Lizzie leaned in. "Sing." She hissed.

Still nothing.

The pianist had stopped playing and the director was prompting us insistently with our lines.

Still nothing.

I could feel my face glowing hot in humiliation as time stretched with no improvement. "Sing!" Lizzie said again, a bit louder. Her patience in me was rapidly dwindling.

My eyes swerved to look at her, anger and rebellion boiling in that stare. The sight of the spoiled little brat made my brow lower with fury and now I wasn't singing, not just because I didn't know the words, but out of pure, unfiltered defiance.

Lizzie saw the glare I cast at her and her face twisted in hatred. Impulsively, she stomped her foot in outrage, making an echoing BOOM all through the hall and shaking the stage as she roared at me. "SIIIING!" Everyone jumped at the force of it. The entire hall was turned to Lizzie now as she raged on. "SING, you little insect! This is so typical, Grimes! Stop ruining this play like your stupid dad ruins everything else! NOW SING, YOU USELESS SCAB!"

Lizzie crossed a big freaking line with those words, and in those few sentences she had sealed her fate.

"That does it!" I shrieked, grabbing those ridiculous ribbons right out of my hair and throwing them on the ground angrily, adding force to the statement. Blind fury took over my next moves and I grabbed the paint bucket they had forgotten about and chucked it right at Lizzie's Big. Fat. Ugly. Face!

Its impact was precise. The bucket soared through the air, trailing a long tail of green before it made contact with Lizzie's head. Green went everywhere, soaking her hair and painting down across her front in big globs, sticking to her blonde curls and ruining her costume completely. There was an enormous wave of satisfaction that shot through me at the sight of her in that state, before it was gone all too quickly.

The entire building was shocked speechless and I heard a deep intake of breath from the crowd as they witnessed the madness that had unfolded. For a moment, time stopped completely. I glanced over at my dad, Michonne, Carl, Negan, and the Saviors and saw that all their mouths had dropped in unison. I distantly considered how much trouble this would earn me later when we got home and regretted the action for a brief moment.

Then that moment was up.

"YOU! RUINED! MY! DREEEEEEEEEEEEEEESS!" The red on Lizzie's face was as if a devil had been summoned directly into the girl's body. I saw fire rise from her back and like a flash of lighting, she was out on the stage to tear me apart. I'll give her points for that, as I partially expected her to start crying instead of taking immediate action.

I felt anger blind me as I charged the oncoming girl head-on. The two of us collided with one another in the center, screaming, biting, hitting, and pulling hair like two rabid animals: a raging, gingerbread girl and a furious, red and green Gretel.

She was on me a and grabbed a fistful of hair while I fought back by hitting, scratching, and biting with everything I had. Several kids ran up from off of the stage to help break the tousle apart but they, instead, ended up being caught in the rampage themselves. The stage was immediately animated with anarchy as the entirety of the cast was engaged in a massive fistfight right there in front of our family, friends, and enemies.

Mrs. Chett (the music teacher) was near stage right, pulling her hair out in tuffs as her great play was falling to pieces in front of her. "Gaaaaah! My play! My beautiful paly!"

That didn't cause anyone to divert from their initial prey and everyone continued to fight blindly.

"You little brat!" Lizzie shouted slapping me hard enough to make me spin. "Time to teach a stupid cookie minion a lesson you'll never forget!"

I did a one-eighty with my fist curling into a ball to punch her hard enough in the gut that she doubled over in pain. I used her position to force her into a headlock and pulled more on her now-tangled curls. "If there's anyone who needs schooling, it's some condescending idiot girl!"

We continued to fight within the warzone of children. It seemed a bit like the minor characters were fighting the majority of the main cast. Abigail was holding Boxy's gingerbread costume over his head, while Leo pushed Dora's witch hat all the way down passed her chin. Ryan and Darla were busy throwing each other around just as Jim and Griffin took turns choking each other, all while the younger cast either cried where they stood in the middle of the stage or chose no sides and hit anyone and everyone with various stage props.

Lizzie eventually maneuvered me into a chokehold and dragged me across the stage. I responded by wetting my mouth with as much saliva as I could and drooled all over her arms. Lizzie screamed in disgust and released me, trying to wipe the drippy, goo off her, but I took the distraction to leap at her from behind and grabbed fistfuls of her hair. The entire auditorium was erupted with our screams of rage.

"I'll scalp you with my bear hands!"

"Aaaaaah! Let go you demented little freak!"

"DO NOT CALL ME A FREAK!"

"FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!"

I heard my dad yelling just then and several parents were scrambling on stage to try and break up the massive brawl. Lizzie was able to use her larger size to her advantage as she wrestled out of the grip I had on her and grabbed at my throat, her fingers tangling in the charm necklace I hid under my clothes. I felt a link snap as she tugged hard. The chain ripped from my neck where she tossed it to the side. I roared in fury for her disrespectful move then punched her again, this time in the teeth.

Arms grabbed me from behind and I recognized my dad's voice as he ordered me to let her go. I could see Lizzie's own mother grabbing her in the same way, each parent trying to drag their child off the other. There were more parents on stage with their own arms around their children, trying in vain to reestablish order.

Meanwhile, Carl remained off to the side snapping pictures with a Polaroid he had brought with him. For this, Dad roared at him as he continued trying to tear me and Lizzie apart.

"CARL! DOES THIS _LOOK_ LIKE AN EVENT WE WANT TO REMEMBER!?"

At last, we were separated but I still fought to get at the brat, determined to beat her to a pulp. Even her mother was such a bitch!

"You should put a muzzle on that animal of yours!"

"I hate you!" I screamed, trying to fight out of Dad's arms. "I hope you both get…"

"Judith Gertrude Grimes, don't you dare!"

But I ignored him, stabbing my finger at the two, summoning all the magic in my blood and finishing the hex with a scream, "…CHICKENPOX!"

The mother and daughter gasped in shock and the girl could barely contain her terror with the spell that was cast, backing away like I were the devil himself here to send both of them to hell.

Dad hastily tried to amend my prior statement. "She was just kidding."

"Come on, Dad." Carl announced with a role of his eye, still aiming the camera at us. "She was not kidding. She was _definitely_ not kidding."

"Carl, you're not helping." He said through gritted teeth. "And for the last time GET THAT THING OUT OF MY FACE!" He snatched the camera away and threw it on the ground where it broke before the final picture had even finished developing.

With the play ruined, everyone was told to go home. Negan and the visiting Saviors were the only ones to find anything funny about the catastrophe and before leaving he clapped my dad on the back condescendingly. "Thanks for the show, Rick. It started to get a little boring towards the middle but the ending was by far the best part. I tell ya, what a twist. I never even saw it coming." His gaze swept down at me and he winked. "Don't be too hard on her, though. If you ask me, I think Gretel deserved it."

I hated that those words were spoken from _him_ rather than someone like Michonne, which would have cheered me up otherwise.

When we got home I was in a world of trouble while Dad yelled at me and I yelled right back at him. I believe it was one of the few times Dad ever resorted to using the belt. Days later I was banned from practicing in all future school performances and I could say with total honesty that that was perfectly fine with me.

On a far stranger note, a few days following, Lizzie and her mother came down with an unexpected case of chickenpox. From that day forward, all the children and most of the adults in town, treated me with mixed emotions of awe and caution. I believe the term "witch" was thrown around much more often when describing me after that.

Thankfully, my friend John was able to cheer me up days later when we both decided to pull off our greatest feat of foraging the town or anyone had ever seen before.

* * *

 ** _Present Day_**  
Negan's presence inspired just as much disruption today as it did those years ago. Every now and then I could feel my peers sneak occasional glances at the man and then turn back again to whisper something to their neighbor. I was the only one that kept my gaze forward, determined not to turn no matter how much his eyes on my back burned.

This felt borderline creepy and I couldn't help but search for the clock in desperation. School wouldn't be let out for another two hours. Was he planning to sit in for the remainder of that time? I desperately wished for a reason—any reason—to get out of there. I was considering asking if I would have been okay to go to the bathroom and sneak out that way, when scratching suddenly came from the window, followed by frantic yips. Sherriff was outside again, making a fuss and desperate to get my attention. He must have found a way out of the house again.

A swell of relief filled me since I now had my escape.

"Mrs. Lakely," I said raising my hand to get her attention. She looked towards me and I stood. "My dog is here again. Can I take him back home?"

I think under normal circumstances she would have scolded me, especially since she never missed an opportunity to do so. Plus, it was the third time he had found his way here after all, and she was getting impatient with me. But a brief glance towards the back made her think better of it, somehow. She didn't want to put any of her students in line of Negan's attention so she let it be this one time.

"Alright. Take him home, but be back quickly."

The door out of the class was at the back and I'd have to pass Negan and the two men he brought with him to get out. But rather than do that, I silently turned to the window, opened it and dove through, rolling nimbly on the grass outside. This earned several giggles from most of the children and for this Mrs. Lakely _did_ scold me.

"Judith Grimes, use the door like a normal human!"

"This is faster and I'm already outside!" I whined.

"Don't do that again, we're not burglars."

"That can't be said for _everyone_ today!" I yelled it loud enough that all those inside were able to hear and in the class I saw several students gasp in surprise by my outburst while a few of the boys grinned impulsively for my ballsy statement.

Mrs. Lakely looked absolutely horrified, because _really,_ everyone knew who I was talking about.

" _Judith_!" She hissed, but I was already scurrying down the street with the puppy in my arms before she could call me back.

I wasn't going to go home, not right away at least. This invasive development from that monster had crossed a big fat line and if my father didn't already know about it he was going to get an earful from me and the other parents when this got out.

I spotted him being forced to load up supplies while those lazy Saviors stood by talking and grinning smugly.

" _Father_!" I said accusingly, bringing his attention up to look at me in surprise.

"Judith, what are you doing here? You should be in school."

"That is exactly why I'm here. Do you know _where_ Negan is right now?"

His eyes went wide and a look of total horror and appall crossed his face when it dawned on him.

"Exactly! Now as a new parent myself I am here to discuss the boundaries that have been breached with this development! Obviously, a line has been crossed and I want to be sure that you of all people understand that!"

He jumped out of the van and stormed down the street. "Judith, go home and stay there. Get in your room and lock the door. I will handle this!"

He was angry and that was good. I ran off to do as I was told, running up the stairs two at a time and barricading myself inside with my puppy. I took a seat on the mattress, holding the little thing close to me while I tried to guess what was happening at the moment. After a while, I heard muffled voices outside my window and recognized Negan, Carl and Dad arguing. From what I could guess by their tones it sounded heated.

Out of curiosity, I got up to watch it all from my window. I didn't think to open it, I just stood there staring out, wondering what this argument would bring. Dad seemed to be yelling at Negan furiously. I wasn't sure what he said but I gasped suddenly when Negan threw a punch at my dad. His swing was powerful enough to send the man immediately to the ground. I knew my dad could take punches well, so, to send him sprawling with one blow was deeply unsettling.

Negan stood over him, holding his bat on his shoulder while he talked more. His back was to me so I couldn't see his expression very well, but if I had to guess, I believed he was smiling. A few of his men flanked him at that moment, and before I could blink, two were holding my brother back while three others beat on my dad. My heart in my throat I cried out in shock and pressed against the glass in horror. I didn't know how long I watched it happen before my body moved. Throwing my door opened, I tore down the stairs rushing into the kitchen for the broom. As an afterthought I grabbed a knife on top of that.

I was fully prepared to beat them senseless for attacking my dad and brother like that, yet when I opened the door Carl was crouched beside Dad where he lay bloody on the ground. In the meantime, Negan and his men loaded into their trucks and were out before I had the chance to attack with my weapons. They were lucky they tucked tail when they did. I was ready for some blood.

Not just that, I was seething so much I could barely believe it, but I pushed it aside as I helped Carl lift Dad up and lead him into the house where we could look after his injuries. He seemed to catch sight of the broom and knife I held.

"And just what were you planning to do with those, young lady?" He asked accusingly. I remained quiet but he didn't need an answer to figure out what I'd been intending. "I thought I told you to stay in the house?"

"You know I don't listen very well." I told him, looking away.

"No you certainly don't."

We patched him up in silence and resumed our routine, working to replace the supplies that we'd been robbed of and tried not to let the anger blind us as we muscled through.

Thankfully, Sherriff cheered me up a little that night when he curled up with me on my mattress. Again, I was grateful for the presence of the puppies.

While taking care of them for that long duration, I found very few opportunities to sneak away and get back to the island. As much as I loved the puppies I had other responsibilities. The garden needed tending and for anyone who wasn't me, it was hard getting there through the statues safely. Enid offered to go, but I wasn't sure about it. Walkers could jump out of that crowd so easily if you weren't careful.

She chose to go anyways. Enid loved that place just as much as I did and it wasn't right to deny her entrance just because I wasn't around. But it didn't keep me from worrying every time she went out.

* * *

Being grounded wasn't fun. I was watched around the clock, my window was rigged to alert Dad and Michonne if I snuck out at night, and I was starting to suffer from severe cabin fever.

Finally I decided to ask Dad how long this would last.

"I told you. Forever."

"Daaaaad! I'm serious, how long am I going to be grounded? It's been a whole month! I have things to do! No one else can do them but me!"

"We've been over this. You don't go outside of the wall on your own and that's final. No more discussion on this."

And without another word he turned and left. I began to realize that the only way I was going to get through to him was if I myself told him the truth. If this wasn't proof that he was bound and determined to protect and keep me with him at all costs then I didn't know what else there was for me to do. I couldn't be afraid anymore. The time for being afraid was over. I had to take this step. My father didn't trust me and to earn that trust I needed to show him that I trusted him with the biggest secret in the world.

I had to start trusting him.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: The Christmas scene was inspired by Diary of a Wimpy Kid as well as Practical Magic.**


	10. The Secret Garden

**Chapter 10  
The Secret Garden  
**"Dad, are you doing anything today?" I asked looking up hopefully from the pan I was drying. Michonne and Carl had already gone to their jobs for the day, leaving the two of us behind to clean the dishes. His wounds were still clearing up, but he looked better.

"Well there were a few things I was planning to get finished, sweetie." He announced. "Why?"

"Nothing…" I sighed. "I just wanted to spend the day together."

A gentle smile graced his features as he looked at me. "Maybe I could put it off for one more day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's been a while since we had a father daughter day. Did you have something in mind?"

"Could we go outside of the wall today?"

He looked uneasy by the idea and it was quite obvious he did not like that idea. Anything was bound to happen outside the safety of our wall. He knew only too well how a simple supply run could turn deadly in a matter of moments.

I tried to be the voice of reason for him as he stared at me with growing worry. "Dad, I can't stay grounded and locked up behind the walls for my whole life. If I'm with you I'll be safe. We won't go far and if we see walkers we can turn right around."

He seemed to be debating it carefully before he finally sighed. "Alright. We can go out today. One hour and then back home."

Before we had gone in the woods, my dad stopped to give me something. It had been meant as a birthday present but he withheld it when he found out what I had done.

"If we're going in there it's as good a time as any to give it to you now." He announced, putting it in my hands.

I unwrapped the paper to find a brand new slingshot, a holster and a pouch of pellets. After he had found out what I'd done he assumed I may have taken it as a message to disregard my punishment and go out of the walls anyways.

It was a beautiful gift and I was floored to receive it. I had been going about carrying my slingshot in nothing but my pocket while I stuffed smooth river rocks in my other one, but this polished one made it look like I meant business.

It was the best present I'd gotten.

"Thank you so much!" I announced, throwing my arms around him. "It was worth the wait."

"I'll want to make sure it works out alright." He told me, rubbing my back.

The old self-made slingshot proved no match for a specially crafted one and my skill was even better with a proper weapon. I killed two rabbits from twenty yards away and wounded a turkey. Dad looked impressed by it all and asked how I got so skilled.

"Practice." I announced. Dad had seen me plenty of times around town firing away at empty cans and other targets. Any time I wasn't in the woods, being tutored, or doing chores I was practicing. Daryl was the one to give me my first slingshot ever.

"You practice a lot?" My dad asked, bringing me back to the present.

"As often as I can."

"Bet that comes in handy, doesn't it, Elf?"

My back stiffened and I finished tying the knot around the ankles of the dead animals. Even though I knew he knew the truth it still took me off guard when he called me by that name.

"When did you figure it out?" I asked as we stood to walk down a path. My dad took the animals from me and carried them.

"It took a while but I caught on eventually."

"And it wasn't because Negan told you?"

"He gave you away but didn't tell me directly. I started to figure some things out when he asked about you."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Michonne and I have talked about it."

"How 'bout Carl?"

"You know Carl," Dad sighed. "He doesn't talk very much so I can't be all too certain sometimes."

"You're taking it surprisingly well." I said kicking a rock and watching it skid across our path.

"Well it's been what—three years since we first knew about the elf and in all that time you've somehow managed to handle yourself without disappearing without a trace or returning with life-threatening wounds. I'm not sure how you've done it but I think we could all use a lesson from you. In fact, where did you get those medicinal supplies? Where did you find all of it?"

There was nothing I could say. There was too much to explain and it would take time for him to understand. I took his hand by that, holding it carefully as we walked.

"Dad… I know you said just an hour today, but there's something I want to show you and I don't think an hour is going to be enough."

When we reached the shrine, his reaction towards it was much the way Enid's had been the first time. The mist lingered over it just as it'd done that day as well, creating the image of a haunted cemetery.

Dad hesitated but I took his hand and led him into the stone crowd. He wouldn't have gone in otherwise. The statues scared even my father, who had seen so much horror in his life it was amazing that anything would surprise him these days.

We crossed the stone bridge and I jumped down into the hidden boat before he realized there was something to catch me going into the water. I urged him in and he jumped clumsily aboard then sat while I pulled the rope to move us.

The runes stones passed us as we drifted and then my father caught sight of the frozen dead reaching out of the waters.

"Judith…"

"Don't worry," I told him, "we're almost there. This is just to scare outsiders away."

The fog only began dissipated once we reached the shore and even then it was still fairly thick. As we walked up the path though, it thinned out, revealing the beautiful place I'd been banned from visiting for an entire month. I looked up to watch my dad's expression and when he looked around he was in awe.

I watched his eyes slowly begin to take it all in; the flowers, the statues, the stone ruins of the cathedral, the spring ponds, and the witch's cottage.

"Judith, where are we?"

"A secret garden." I told him, gripping my hands behind my back as we both looked at it. "I come here to get away and to make things that'll help everyone."

"You made that stuff?"

I shrugged. "Well I had some help from Enid and… someone else."

And before I could stop myself I began to tell and show him everything. We went inside and I flipped through the books of herbal plants, remedies, soaps, lotions, teas, and salves. I even showed him the spell books I had poured over, trying several to test the results of them. Most weren't that effective but the protection and sweet dream spells had relatively promising results. He didn't laugh or scoff or shut me down like I partially expected him to. He listened, interrupting only to ask me the occasional question.

Then I showed him the property, the length of the island, its features and the flowing springs that bubbled out of it, the garden, which was a little unkempt since it'd been so long since I was there. If it weren't for Enid's help it would have been entirely overgrown.

And then I showed him Vanessa's grave.

He along with everyone knew I occasionally saw our dead friends sometimes. The witch though… it was another story entirely.

"And she's taught me all about plants from the wild that can be eaten." I told him. "It's just a little hard to remember which ones. They're so tricky. One small slip up and it's curtains! Usually I have to check a few times with a book, and she can get mad if I don't memorize them right. She says I won't always have the book and I need to remember on my own."

"Was she turned when you found her body?"

"Yes."

He looked worried, but steadied once it occurred to him that I hadn't been harmed if it meant I was standing in front of him now. "How did you kill her?"

"There's a revolver upstairs. I used that to shoot her. It took three tries till I got her in the cheek."

"Not bad…" he said. "Was she coming after you?"

I shook my head. "She always teaches me something new, but the first time was the hardest. When I came back over the next few weeks she showed me how to set snares. Most of the animals died before we got there but when we found a rabbit alive once, I had to break its neck and… and it was terrible. I mean I knew I had to do it because that's how we eat and that's how we live, but that… I still hated it." I could hear the words as I was telling him about this and I could barely believe myself. My hand slapped my face and I groaned in self-disgust.

"I'm sorry I'm whining about that. I've no right to say things like that to you, of all people in the world."

"Judith, you're my daughter. You have every right to come to me with those problems, and I'm supposed to help you through them like I'm supposed to."

"…No, I don't." I said firmly, studying a spider between two garden decorations as it trapped a fly in its web. "I don't need to pile up my problems onto you when you've got bigger things to worry about. I'm not dumb. I'm just a kid and no one expects anything from me right now. But you've got the whole town to worry about and everything just keeps piling up, and it's just not fair for you."

With those words he bent down to my level and looked me in the eye. "Judith, everything that I've done, I've done for you and Carl. I've protected you, guided you, and taught you the best that I am able to do. If you only have to worry about killing rabbits to feed our people, the people you love, that's an enormous relief to me. Because it means I'm doing my job right."

My eyes watered when he said that, but I held them back, promising not to cry in front of him.

"Can you tell me one thing though?"

"What?"

"When did you get to be so grown up?" He actually smiled just then and looked around at the green growing land. "Seeing this place, and seeing all you've done to contribute to our people… I think it's the first sign I've had telling me that I'm doing something right for once."

Sometime around noon we took a seat on the flowery grass and just talked, or rather I mostly talked. I told him about all the places I had found for foraging, my favorite fishing sights, snaring paths, the best weeds to use for medicine, and all the statues I had named while on the island. It seemed like I talked on and on. Dad didn't say much, just listened intently holding a soft smile as he looked down at me. I wasn't sure if I had bored him or not but he eventually spread out over the grass and closed his eyes.

"Go ahead and keep talking," He murmured. "I'm listening. I'm just resting my eyes for a moment."

He listened patiently as I kept on and after a while I looked back to see the steady rise and fall of his chest and knew he really was asleep this time. I wondered if it would do any good to keep talking and decided to just lie back, making myself comfortable in the crook of his arm.

It was a rare occasion when my father truly felt relaxed and maybe for that small moment he even felt safe. As long as he was with me, we at least wouldn't need to worry about walkers. He could count on me to keep all of them away.

At least those monsters I could protect him from.

* * *

Out of nowhere, I felt something jolt right out from under me. The solid warm pillow my head had been resting on was tugged right out from under my head and left me to smack back down on the less soft mound of grass. I looked around blearily, wondering what had happened.

I had just been in the middle of a pretty spectacular dream about a rainbow jellyfish in a sea of golden water that bubbled like campaign.

When I caught sight of the thing that had roused me I saw my father, sitting straight up and panting heavily.

A nightmare; I'd recognized one of his anywhere. It seemed that not even this place could keep his demons at bay for very long.

He held his chest as he tried to settle his frantic heart.

"Dad?"

He turned, as if realizing I was there for the first time.

"Judith, where…?" His eyes drifted around, taking in the sight of the strange place. He had forgotten where he was as he had slept.

"We're on the island," I explained carefully, "remember?"

"I—I thought for a moment… it had only been a dream at first, and then..." He trailed off looking around as he wiped the sweat off of his brow.

I sat up, sitting cross-legged and yawned. "No it's real. It wasn't a dream."

He still didn't look convinced though.

"No one was here a moment ago, were they?"

Now I understood what his dream may have been about. Had he thought a walker was standing over us, or Negan had arrived from out of nowhere? I shook my head, wiping the crust from my eyes. "No, it's just us. Pretty sure it's just us, at least."

He breathed in relief once more and finally settled back.

"Do you need to talk about it?" I asked.

"No, I'll be fine."

I didn't press; if he wanted to talk he would talk. Instead I looked around at the flowers that grew around us. "The poppies make people sleepy." I said, lying down and resting my head in the crook of his arm once more.

"Yeah, I knew they did that." He breathed deep, closing his eyes as he let the smells of the garden fill him. "This is a wonderful place, Judith. I can tell already, it's good and protected."

"Yeah."

"If you're okay with it, I'd like to keep it as secret as we possibly can."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." Then I looked up at him, brows lowering in concern. "I want you to trust me again, Dad. I want to not be grounded anymore so I can do my job. 'Cause this is my job. You have a job—everyone has a job and this is mine. Please let me do my job, Dad."

There was no sound except the birds chirping and the insects buzzing.

"Alright." He said finally. "This is your job, then."

We walked in silence back home for most of the trip, but after a while something seemed to press at Dad and he broke the silence.

"When you're out here, how do you defend yourself?"

"You mean… how do I keep the walkers away?"

"More or less."

I kicked a rock and stuffed my fists in my pockets. I always worried how I was going to break this news to him. It was the hardest, biggest secret I held. Bigger even than the garden. Telling it was a different sort of leap. Sure he said he would keep quiet about the garden, but he wouldn't be able to keep quiet about me. He'd want to do just what Enid suggested and find out why I was this way. I didn't know what would happen after that; How many people were going to find out? What would they want to do?

I must've tensed outwardly and buried my nose inside the collar of my cloak; I often did that when I was nervous or scared.

"Judith…?" My dad said carefully. Maybe I had done more than tensed up because I felt his hand on my shoulder just then. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." I said. I was breathing heavily. "I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

I stayed quiet for too long, searching his expression for something that would tell me all I needed to know. There was a flicker—a moment where his expression changed. A spike of fear shot through me and I fearfully shook my head.

"No... no I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Is it about the walkers?"

"Yes." I answered.

He proceeded with caution, noticing how I had suddenly worked myself up. "I just want to know how you handle them, Judith. That's all. I'll let you be out here but only if I know you can defend yourself."

He looked at me and I could tell he meant it.

"Do you run from them?"

I didn't know what to say or how to answer him. "Well… they don't… that's to say… I'm not…" Then I gave up and nodded. "Yes. Yes I run from them." It was the simplest and safest answer to give him. "I'm not a coward!" I said instantly feeling he might've thought I was weak by saying so. "And I _do_ know how to kill them, but most are taller and stronger than me, but they're slow, too. They're real slow and stupid, and I'm fast and I know how to lure them away from me."

"Why don't you shoot them with your slingshot?"

I didn't know how to respond by that. Normally once they caught sight of me, they just lumbered away. They weren't a threat after that, but I had to say something.

"I… don't like wasting my ammo, not unless it's totally necessary." I decided.

My answer didn't please him, but it looked like he bought it. "I think you need to sort out your priorities, Judith." He said sternly. "I know you're capable of killing them, but I think you don't quite understand the value of life over a pellet. If you see a walker, you put it out of its misery. Not just because it's a danger to you, but because it's a danger to others as well. Imagine if a walker you had the chance to kill escaped to kill one of our friends instead. How do you think you'd feel about that?"

The thought made my mouth dry. "I… I'd feel terrible and responsible."

"Exactly." He said. "So before we go back I want to see you take one down on your own. I'm not letting you out here again until I know you can do it."

We didn't have to go far to find one. In just five minutes there were two of them that we spotted through the foliage.

Dad steered me within their sight and jerked his head towards them expectantly.

The two turned towards us but didn't move closer and I knew why. Thinking quick I took up my new slingshot and aimed. The first went down without a problem. Their skulls were as soft as rotting watermelon shells and their brains were like goo.

But when the second one spotted me it didn't approach any closer than where it was.

To my Dad's surprise and my own horror, it began to turn away from us, choosing a new direction. My hands were sweaty and I fumbled with the pellet before it suddenly slipped away from me to the ground. I scrambled for another one and aimed, but I missed. I tried again, but missed once more.

My dad unfortunately was no longer paying attention to me as he observed this odd behavior. Walkers were supposed to attack anything that moved and this one was ambling away for some reason.

"What the hell."

I knew he was straining his ears now, wondering if there was a sound in the distance that had caught its interest now, but we heard nothing.

My heart was beating fast and I was consciously aware that I needed to gain control of this situation. I aimed again, but my father put his hand on mine before I had let loose.

"Wait a moment. I want to see what's going on here."

 _No no no! I don't want you to!_

A cold sweat broke out on my neck and I stared back from my father to the lumbering dead body. It didn't seem like he knew what was going on, but he wasn't stupid enough not to figure it out in time.

Against his wishes I aimed and fired at the walker while its back was towards us. It went down without a problem.

My dad rounded on me. "Judith, I asked you not to fire."

"But I thought that's what I was supposed to do."

"Yes but I wanted to know what distracted it."

"Why does it matter?" I tested irritably.

"Because now I don't know if we're alone out here or not."

By that we both stopped dead and listened carefully. But there was no sound and nothing moved. Then another moan broke through and we both turned to see a third walker off in the distance ambling towards us. My dad waited but this one didn't turn back. They usually didn't until they were closer.

"Can I get that one at least?"

He paused, waiting to see if it would turn back, but it kept forward for another few feet.

"Alright then."

I stepped up and didn't give it a chance to turn around before I fired away. Being a little more confident helped. Confident firing always had the best results.

It fell down in one blow and my father nodded approvingly. "Alright. I'm convinced now. Looks like you know how to handle yourself well enough."

I swallowed in relief. My secret was still safe and I was still scared to death someone was going to discover it.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I forgot to mention from Chapter 6 The Radio Host, that the two songs that Bianca played when waiting to hear back from the crashed astronauts was "Rage" written by Dylan Thomas and read by Anthony Hopkins. I thought the Interstellar soundtrack would be appropriate and would add to the suspense. The second is "Saturn" by Sleeping at Last. It has a quiet somber tune that seems, in a way, extremely hopeful and sad at the same time, like a ballad for a fallen hero who lived a beautiful life but died tragically. If you listen to it close enough it's a song that almost brings tears to your eyes from either joy or sorrow or maybe both.**

 **If you guys have any particular thoughts or comments I would love to read your reviews.**

 **Also I wanted to start some drabbles for this story. It would be a separate piece of writing from this initial story but centered around Judith since she's my main character in all this. Just small scenes or oneshots to kind of expand this story a little. If anyone has any suggestions or scenes they would be interested in reading I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts and I could see how they would work.**


	11. Hrunting is Shattered

**Chapter 11  
Hrunting is Shattered**

Vanessa continued to teach me. Her thoughts on my father's visit to the island were kept to herself, and whether she approved or not was no longer an option for her. But I was still interested in her thoughts, no matter what she told me.

"I believe your father will do what he thinks is right to protect your people. If he feels the island might help them he'll do what he has to. But he knows that's not his right. He'll ask you first."

"You think?"

"I do actually."

I smiled in relief and turned back to the lesson about knots.

It wasn't just time spent on the island, though. A lot of my time was used up in the forest gathering and hunting anything and everything I thought might be good.

Three times Negan's men came and went since I had brought my father to the garden. He never told them, in fact he acted a lot of the time like he had no idea there even was a garden. In some ways it felt like my secret was still my secret. My dad knew but he no longer tried to interfere with it. I guess he figured that if I had gone three whole years of wondering the woods without supervision then I could maybe continue to do it safely.

On their fourth visit I went out and took Sheriff with me. It was the first time he'd been outside of the walls since I brought him to Alexandria. He was such an energetic little puppy and I felt it was as good a time as any to start training him to be a hunter and if not that then maybe I could use him to find truffles. As long as he stayed near me, the walkers wouldn't bother us. _I_ was much too scary to them to risk a puppy snack.

We went fishing and caught a massive trout—well more like _I_ wrestled it into submission. I was checking the fishing nets and wonder of all there it was, tangled up and looking good enough to eat. But then the net tore and the fish worked free. Before I could think I was leaping into the water after it. My hand caught on its tail and pulled. It was slimy and gross and slippery but I wouldn't release. The thing was almost as strong as I was and half my own size. It splashed furiously and at one point it slapped me with its own fin. I managed to drag it to shore and got a knife in its head, ceasing it's thrashing for good.

Sheriff had barked energetically at the sight of the tousle, but had otherwise been no help with it at all. It was fine, though. He would learn.

The trout was a beauty; green as glass, with an orange underbelly and dark black spots like river pebbles. It was the kind of thing men bragged about in old fishing stories. I folded it up in old magazine papers and set it inside my new basket pack. It was pretty heavy but I didn't mind.

Earlier we had checked the snares, caught two wild quails and a pheasant, picked blackberries, greens, and gathered truffles we could roast or stew. Even soaked to the bone, I felt pretty good with myself and all but skipped as we went back with Sheriff padding beside me.

I would have even sung if I knew any good songs, but the only one I knew right then by heart was Dear God and I didn't feel like bringing myself down at the moment.

So I decided to make up a song on the spot.

"The bodies rot  
The bodies walk  
and wander in the woods

No matter where those bodies go  
They'll wander on for good

Don't shoot the gun  
It's just no fun  
When bodies hear that call

You better run  
Or else you're done  
They'll munch you one and all

Hit their head  
then go to bed  
Don't worry once they're still

But if bodies walk  
Don't try to talk  
Just spear their skulls with drills

Stay up too late  
But close that gate  
Or the bodies wander in

When bodies start that wanderin'  
They eat you for their din!"

I liked my made up song and sang the tune over again several times. The lyrics were grim, but I sang it like I was singing a nursery rhyme; after all, poetry like that had originally been based off of hard truths, or so I heard from other adults. Mother Goose was a breeder for subliminal messages. And who knew? In the future it could have been used as a teaching mechanism for small children… assuming there would be children in the future. Often it felt like I was the only child in the world at times.

The thought earned a hard shake from my head. I didn't want to think like that right now. It was such a pretty day and I didn't want to waste it by being sad.

But no matter how hard I tried, that figurative rain cloud hovered over me nonstop. I was constantly reminded of Negan's current visit and knew I couldn't go back home till he was gone, so I lingered a bit, deciding to visit my favorite meadow. I picked wildflowers and made two crowns, one for me and one for Sheriff. I played with him a bit, fawning over him obsessively like a new mother with her baby.

When I put the ring of flowers on him something in me imploded by the adorably precious sight of him, and I gushed. "Who is the cutest little Sheriff in the whole world?" I said in a high-pitched baby voice as I snuggled him. "That right, you are!" He panted happily and licked at one of the flowers.

After a while our attentions turned to watch a tortoise amble through the grass.

Sheriff stared at the odd creature, following its slow path and walking beside it in deep curiosity. I could practically hear his puppy thoughts as he studied this alien. "What are you? Why are you so slow? How come you have no fur? Why do you have a helmet on your back? What's your name? Do you want to play? Play with me! You'll love playing with me! I'm good at playing!"

My first thought at the sight of it was turtle soup, but for some reason I stayed my hand. It just didn't feel sporting somehow. It was so slow, and I already had a pheasant, two quails and a large trout; there was no call to kill if it I didn't have to.

Besides, I had nothing to do for a while, might as well let them entertain me. I rolled on my stomach as I watched it but then something moved sharply and the moan of a walker cut through all sound—well half a walker I supposed. Its legs and bottom half was entirely gone as it tried to crawl forward. Sheriff yelped in surprise and sprinted back to me, burying his snout in my stomach as he sought protection from his mama. When its dead eyes scanned towards me though, it moaned once then dragged its broken corpse in another direction.

The puppy whimpered and I hugged him close, showing him there was nothing to be afraid of. Then I spoke to him. "It's okay, everything is fine. It won't come near us now. As long as you stay near me, nothing bad will get you." And with those words we watched it disappear into the grass. Then I looked around as if searching for listeners in the woods before I turned back to the little one in my arms.

"If I share a secret with you do you promise not to tell, Sheriff? I mean I know you're straight as a line being a servant of the law and all, but maybe you can bend the rules this one time." I winked to him and he huffed adorably. "There's a reason they don't come near me. Would you like to know why?" My voice lowered to a cryptic hush. "It's because I'm a _scary_ witch. That's right. Your mama is a witch! I can do magic and cast spells and find things that no one else can find. My teacher is an even scarier witch than I am, but I'm not sure if you'll see her, because only her spirit remains now."

I lied back in the grass, stroking the soft spot of my dog's ear as he settled on top of my stomach.

"I see other people, too, but not like the witch. She has magical powers that let her come back and teach me things whenever I visit her house. But sometimes I see our friends, the ones who have passed away. Only they don't usually stay for very long. They come and go as they wish. I hear it's bad for them to stay for so long, but their business isn't over. If they've got responsibilities that aren't over before they die, they stay to carry them out or get someone to do it for them."

"All of them are different. There's this one." And I pulled my chain from my neck to show him the charms, pointing at the music note. "She's like an angel. At night I hear her singing and it's prettier than all the birds out here. Then there's this one." I pointed to the anchor. "This one is like a navigator and tells the best stories and didn't let any of the bad change him before he left." Then I pointed to the silver wings. "And this one… This is my mom. When I was really little she came to me almost every night, but her visits have grown few and far apart. Sometimes it feels like… I can't see them as well as I used to."

A pang of sorrow hit me just then as I looked at the little thing in my lap and I embraced him. "I'm sorry for your family." I said, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry I didn't get there in time before they were all…" I sniffed unable to say the last part. "They didn't like me and would've eaten me probably if I wasn't so fast, but they would've loved you and your siblings just as much as I do. Maybe your brother wouldn't have died then. Maybe they would've raised you better than me. But I'm gunna tell you about them. I'm gunna make sure you know your blood."

My grip on him tightened slightly as my voice growled angrily at the thought of lineage. "There are whispers I hear sometimes that say I'm… I'm not my dad's. They say I'm someone else's. Someone called Shane comes at times and says those things. _But they're lies_!" I hissed at the puppy. "Even Dad thinks it sometimes, but it's not true! I can feel it down to my marrow that it's not true. He _is_ my father, inside and out. I know he is, because I'm stronger than most people, I'm stubborn and resourceful and smart. And I'm only able to be those things because he's part of me!"

I growled at the images of a shadow in my room whispering those things that scared me less than made me blind with fury. "I'll prove my blood!" I hissed determinedly. "If I have to wade through all the crap Dad's been through himself to prove it without a doubt, I'll do it! But no one tells me I'm not Rick's! No one! It's like… like if someone said one of your parents was a poodle instead of a wolf. You'd never want to be a poodle. Never! That wolf is in you every bit! Not some dumb poodle!"

I couldn't expect the puppy to understand, but he seemed to sense the turmoil raging in his mama enough to realize I needed comforting. He curled up in my lap and licked at my arm till I calmed down enough to ease my hold on him.

The wind billowed and we were both quiet after that. My gaze swept up to watch the clouds, finding pictures as we sat there.

After a decent amount of time I finally decided it was time to go but Sheriff seemed a little less eager to leave while I swung my pack on my shoulders. It was hard to tear him away from the lovely meadow but I merely picked him up and carried him a decent distance away before setting him down again and ordering him to follow. He was damn disobedient but another fright from a walker had him running back to me for safety.

I still wore the crown of flowers and carried a bouquet, thinking I'd give it to Michonne when I got back. I had heard that's what people used to do back then, and when was the last time she had a present like that? I thought it might've been nice to surprise her.

I was still lost in thought though. I hadn't even realized there was so much bothering me till I unloaded some of those worries to the puppy beside me. He couldn't understand it, but it was nice to relieve some of it to a living being that wouldn't reprimand me for being stupid or pathetic or crazy.

God why weren't there more dogs instead of people in the world?

As I neared the outskirts the sudden blast of a gunshot broke through all sound in the forest and my heart leapt in my throat. None of us had guns anymore so it could only have meant the Saviors had attacked. I took only a moment to bend down and grab the puppy before I started to sprint, reaching the gate in a panic and brushing through the convoy of trucks and men, silent and quick, even with my pack and a dog.

There were several sounds of surprise at my entrance, as if a little kid silently streaking by was one of the last things they had been expecting. I paid none of them any mind though as I circled the town, trying to track where the blast had come from. The puppy in my arms was fussy and I gathered enough sense to at least drop him off in the sheep pen before continuing my frantic search. Then I heard a commotion coming from Rosita's house. I spotted my father and I couldn't stop myself.

"Dad!" I shouted rushing towards him without thinking. "I heard a gunshot! Is everyone okay?"

He looked startled to see me then suddenly worried as his eyes whipped behind him for the briefest of moments before another voice made both of us stiffen.

"Well hells bells! If it isn't my favorite little Alexandrian."

* * *

I have a confession to make; I've attempted curses before. On more than one occasion I've tried to curse Negan into unimaginable suffering. I mean of course I've tried it. What furious witch with few options wouldn't at least try? Unfortunately, none of them stuck. Not a single one so much as gave him a boil for my troubles. I was so frustrated about it that I cast a spell to see what the hell was going on.

I carefully followed the instructions from the Book of Shadows and drew out the alter as well as prepared the incense required. Inside the adapertio circle with the aroma of the sage, brahmi, and ivy smoke, the world around grew hazy and offset as I slipped into a trancelike dream.

In it I saw a bright white figure pulsing with magic so tangible I had never felt its equal to in all my life. The body seemed to hover near a shadowy outline of someone whose profile I knew all too well. Even if I couldn't see Negan's face I knew it was supposed to be him. I saw that light body next to him quietly fade away, but as it did, Negan's shadowy outline seemed to gain a strange illuminated aura, though his shadow didn't seem to brighten in any way as it surrounded him. In fact, it only darkened more and more, and just as the light from the other body was snuffed out, his outline had become entirely surrounded by the while glow.

With a start I woke up, dazed and confused about what I had seen for a moment. Then the confusion vanished as I somehow understood exactly what my vision had meant and when it hit me, I curled up where I was and beat the ground in rage.

Another witch was protecting him.

I was so furious about all of it! Who the hell was protecting him? Who would care enough about that monster to wrap such a powerful spell around him? And what was even worse was that it was _white magic_. White fucking magic! It was cast out of complete unadulterated love and selflessness. He didn't deserve to have such a powerful generous spell guarding him like that! He was a monster—A MONSTER!

Such a shield of that caliber could not have come from just any average green or kitchen witch. That spell had been bought with the life of someone else and she (I was pretty sure that it was a she) had done it of complete free will.

What poor innocent fool could have been duped by him so entirely to risk such a sacrificial ritual? Not only did he take all we had but he even had an impenetrable magical shield hovering around his aura? This wasn't right! It wasn't fair! How else were we supposed to beat him?

Neither magic, nor wits, nor brute strength seemed to be any match against him. Slowly, very slowly I was beginning to feel like this man may have very well been invincible.

"Cast a curse and you curse two. You curse the enemy and you curse you." That's what Vanessa had taught me after that particular incident proved fruitless. But all I ever wanted was to put a curse on him. Every time I had to look at him my mind would return to the numerous jinxes and hexes found within the island cottage.

Those were my thoughts as my mind snapped back to the present.

I shared a looked with my dad when the voice reached our ears and we both grimaced, turning at the same time to watch Negan exiting the house. His face became immediately interested the moment he caught sight of me. With his approach all I wanted to do was retreat but with one glance at my father I knew that I wouldn't do that. I'd stay to be his strength.

Dad was afraid of him, I knew he was; not of what Negan could do to him exactly, but what he could do to our people. Though he did his best to conceal it, choosing an unemotional expression as a mask, I knew better. Maybe deep down I was afraid of him, too, but it was wrong to lean against someone who was far more damaged from him than me. I could face him—I _would_ face him with dignity and resolve. He wasn't going to intimidate me again. Not here.

Here I'd be strong for my father. I'd put aside that fear. For now I'd pretend he could do no more harm to me than a black bear, but even as I thought that I could see the illogical part of that idea. I could run from bears, or play dead, or climb trees to escape them and there was a great unlikelihood that they would try to shoot me if I ran.

At that moment I had a mental image of a hairy black bear holding a machine gun and firing wildly. I would have almost chuckled at the imagery but I caught sight of Negan's white teeth and it died before it lived.

"Lookit here!" He said stepping towards me. "Judy! I thought I'd never have the chance to see you again."

I detested the shortened version of my name and when it came from him it was worse times one hundred!

"I really thought I'd never see you again either." I countered back in a sarcastic tone.

"It just seems that every time I make a house call, you're out."

"Yeah well every time I smell something bad on the horizon I need to get some fresh air."

"Judith!" My dad smacked my head, angry for my cheek. "Mind your manners." He said sternly.

My head smarted but I held my tong, rubbing at the spot.

"Playing in the woods again, princess?" he pointed to my flower crown and my cheeks went bright red as I realized I was still wearing it.

"No!" I snapped pulling it off my head immediately and tossing it away. "I was working! Some people still do that!"

"Curious." Negan said, ignoring the jab I made. "What do you do out there on your own?"

"Just… stuff." I muttered, openly neglecting to go into detail. "And things."

"Really?" Then he smacked his head as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh right! I'm sorry about that! I might've accidentally let slip the fact that you wanted to keep those visits secret from your daddy."

"Doesn't matter either way." I shrugged, pretending to feel indifferent about the idea, but deep down I was still angry he'd been careless—the rat! "He already figured it out without your help, because he's smart!"

The way he talked was like he didn't see my father was literally standing right there.

"You know I'm very sorry your father found out about that and about our meeting out there." By that I could feel dad's hand on my shoulder tighten slightly. I knew he wanted me out of the way right now, away from the predator's gaze, but both of us knew I couldn't run right now. Negan wanted me to stay put right where I was.

"That was supposed to be our little secret."

"Well I'm an open book," I announced boldly. " _No_ secrets here."

That peaked his interest. "Really?"

I smiled contemptuously, "Really, really."

He pointed to my pack. "Then you wouldn't mind showing off what you found out there."

My head would have bent backward in exasperation and I wanted to groan inwardly. Why oh why didn't I think to stash it somewhere outside the walls where the Saviors and Negan wouldn't see it? I managed to stash the puppy! Now he was going to take this small bit I had scrounged up for a somewhat decent meal tonight!

My hands tightened slightly around the straps and I hesitated for a long moment, taking a step back in aversion. Then my father nudged me insistently and I knew I had no choice.

A defeated sigh left my body and I swung my pack around to show him the contents.

"Road kill, weeds, fungi, and a bottom feeder." I announced, hoping beyond hope it would disinterest him.

My father was getting impatient with me. "Judith."

"Your daughter has an attitude problem." Negan said looking dangerous as he turned to my dad for the first time since I arrived. "It better be resolved the next time I visit."

He words seem to light a spark under Dad just then and he looked back at Negan in challenge. If there was one thing he wouldn't stand for is threats towards his kids.

"Careful, Rick." Negan said dangerously low. "Careful about how you look at me. It'd be traumatizing if I needed to straighten you out in front of your daughter. But maybe you've forgotten what it felt like."

My heartbeat picked up and I was suddenly afraid. At the same time Dad lowered his eyes and his expression melted back into his unemotional mask. It was painful to see him so cowed and I hated myself for rushing in so blindly to witness this.

Then suddenly Negan's hand was on top of my scalp, patting it affectionately and shaking me slightly. "Although, I suppose you should be proud of her. Already able to wander around in the woods without so much as a chaperone. She'll be a large asset to your people, I bet. I mean, it looks like she already is, if she's capable of bringing home the bacon at her age."

I hated his hand on my head. It was large and took up nearly my entire scalp. I felt dirty every time I was so much as near him and all I wanted was to hop in the shower and scrub myself raw.

"And since you're such an opened book, why don't you and I have a little chat, honey." Just then his hand moved to my shoulder and he pushed passed my dad as he steered me around town. I glanced around back towards his expression and saw a look of concern and offense cross his face at Negan's dick move. He was very torn between throwing himself between me and the warlord but doing that was just going to makes things more dangerous for us. The most he could do was stay close and follow, watching carefully for a threat and then intervene when necessary.

I felt a surge of resolve and turned forward. I could do this. I was my father's daughter; I grew up listening to stories about his travels and trials. The things he'd been through were scarier than this.

I could do this.

My expression rearranged to attempt something unemotional like what my dad adopted in Negan's presence, but I felt I may not have been succeeding with that. It was hard and I had new respect for my father for managing it so well. There was no feeling I felt more strongly now than disgust and it must've been obvious on my face. So I kept it forward, deciding not to look at Negan if I could help it. All the while I was distinctly aware of his hand on my shoulder, the weight and the strength of his grip and what that hand could do to me.

I shoved those thoughts aside, though.

 _Don't think about that_ , I told myself. _You'll lose your nerve otherwise._

I still had my pack held in front of me, but it looked like Negan was busy with other thoughts so I swung it back over my shoulder, the one his hand wasn't on.

While we walked, I kept my eyes on the pavement, knowing that if I looked up I'd be enraged to find Negan's thugs looting us left and right once again. I kept it down, but the fury in me wouldn't dispel. If anything it seemed to increase. Then all of a sudden I felt a new presence just then; something familiar but cold and angry.

It was a spirit. I was sure of it, but this wasn't like how they normally felt, even if I knew this one very well.

" _Glenn_?" I murmured softly enough not to be heard.

My fear spiked at that. This wasn't what he was supposed to feel like. Not like this. I could feel his anger pulsing beside me like a storm cloud. I felt it long before it clicked what was going on.

Glenn was becoming vengeful and I could practically feel his words hissing over and over in my head.

 _It was him! It was him! He did it! Killed us both! Shattered Rick! Threatened our family! Beat our people! The ambush! It was him!_

I suddenly felt something hot on my neck, in the place where one of the charms rested on my collarbone, not enough to burn—yet, but enough to notice and set me on edge.

I shivered involuntary and Negan brought me back to the present.

"Cold, sweetie?"

I nearly gagged when he called me by the endearment and had to stifle a second shiver. "No, just felt like a _spider_ was on me for a minute."

His hand squeezed me through my cloak, as either a threat or a warning.

"How's life here for you?"

Was he making small talk?

"Well I'm still here. So life is fine. Why? You wanna live here?" As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't.

"That's sounds tempting." He chimed sounding as though he were deeply considering it. "It's a nice place. Good buildings, good people, and I'm sure you'll all give me and my men your best."

I scrambled to discourage him. "Your pallet's finer than ours," I muttered, "I'm not sure you'd be very impressed with our best."

He barked a laugh and I decided then and there that it was an annoying and arrogant sound.

"Maybe you're right. It's sure not what we're used to. After all, you don't even have proper beds."

By those words the cold was suddenly back and something in me wanted to roar with fury. I had to physically stop myself from shouting a string of insults bursting to get out of my mouth. My head twitched involuntarily, perhaps making it look like I was trying to pop my neck when really it felt like there was something tickling under my spine. Ice suddenly rushed through my veins and this time I really couldn't stop the shiver from surfacing.

It felt as though something or someone was trying to… puppet me.

 _Glenn? What are you doing?_ I thought in horror.

Because I knew it was Glenn even if this was exactly the kind of thing he would never do in life. But death could alter a spirit greatly and even the gentlest and most forgiving of all souls could turn dark if their demise was as atrocious as what Glenn had to endure.

Negan saw my reaction and removed his hand curiously.

"Something wrong?"

"Spider." I said quickly, shaking my cloak for added affect. Much to my surprise a large brown spider really did drop from the folds. My eyes grew wide as plates and I might've croaked a bit at the sight of it.

That sucker was huge.

Negan didn't even wait. His boot was on it the next second. There was a sickening slimy crunch and my face twisted in a flinch.

I wouldn't have killed it. Spiders were revered to my studies with Vanessa and were considered good omens. Even though I wasn't fond of them, it hadn't bit me and she would have been disappointed in me if I went killing a spider without just cause. I would never find the guts to ever hold one, but I could live with one living on my windowsill, provided it stayed there and didn't hang out somewhere I was going to lay down. Yeah I could tolerate spiders.

Snakes, on the other hand, were another question entirely. They were sick little limbless monsters whose existences shouldn't have been possible! I hated them!

Negan twisted his foot over the goo of what was left of the spider, wiping his boot clean on the pavement.

"Damn that sucker was big." He announced putting his hands on his hips. "Did it bite cha?"

I shook my head, doubtful he was all concerned either way.

"Lucky I got it. You bring in all kinds of things from the forest, now don't cha?"

I wasn't sure how to respond by that so I said nothing.

"You know I was looking in your pack and I gotta say, the size of that trout is pretty darn impressive. It's not every person that can catch a fish that big, especially someone of your size." He looked me up and down, from my twiggy arms, my wispy short side ponytail, and my bony little legs that looked even more pathetic swimming in my brown cowgirl boots. "I had a grandfather when I was young used to tell me old stories about this massive catfish monster that used to taunt him and his fishing buddies on the Mississippi. You know those things can grow bigger than a crocodile?"

My brow lowered and I stepped away. "Don't mock me! I might be a kid but I'm not gullible enough to believe something like that. No freshwater fish could possibly grow that big."

He grinned again, amused by my disbelief. "But they do. Some grow so large they could be mistaken for small whales. They can even leap out of the water and eat birds, cats, dogs, and in extreme cases, people even."

I glared. He was making fun of me and I knew it. Although to be totally honest I was firm to assume that everything he told me was going to be a lie no matter what. Because that's what he was—a big liar!

"I saw the quail in there and those truffles. That's a meal for kings, kid."

Just then an idea popped into my head from out of nowhere. I'm not sure what possessed me exactly—well actually I did and his name was Glenn. But I knew either way Negan would take my pack, even so maybe there was a way I could still get something out of it.

"I'll sell it to you." I blurted suddenly.

His eyes rose in amusement. "You want to sell me your road kill and weeds?

"You just said it was a meal for kings." I countered.

He leaned against a fence and chuckled. We all knew he could take it and I'd get nothing, but out of amusement and curiosity he humored me. "Alright, Judy, what do you want?"

I looked him dead in the eye, taking care to hold it without blinking. "I want your bat."

His brow rose in surprise as he looked at me. "You want my Lucille? Out of everything else I've got? Why?"

"I think it'll improve my swing." I answered.

"Lucille's worth more than that whole pack. If you're looking to trade you've gotta sweeten the deal, sweetheart. And even after that I'm only going to let you hold her."

"Fine, what else do you want?"

"Well since I'll be without my weapon I think I want yours."

He pointed down to my slingshot, holster and pouch of pellets. A stab of anger ran through me, but I closed my eyes, aware that it had been doubtful he would have sold it to me so easily. Dad would be so disappointed that I'd given his birthday gift away, but I reminded myself that it'd be worth it.

"Deal!" And I swung the pack off, whipping out the holster, pouch, and slingshot. A Savior passed and I put it all in his arms.

Then Negan called over my father. "Your daughter just traded to take Lucille off your hands."

He looked stunned and disappointed just like I had predicted, but he handed it over to me. It was half my size and weight and the knob was hot and sweaty where my father had kept hold on it.

I took it and looked down at it blankly. I had never bought anything before; I wasn't sure how it worked or if there was more to it than exchanging goods like so. "Is that it then? Is the transaction over?"

He shrugged. "I suppose we're done."

With that, ice lit under my skin and I felt someone take the reins from me. My body felt like a machine that someone accessed through a remote control. I turned, dragging the bat's base in the dirt as I marched forward.

My father followed behind uneasily. "Judith…"

When the idea had crossed my mind to trade for it I thought perhaps I could throw it tonight in our fireplace and we'd all watch it burn to ashes. But Glenn seemed to have different plans.

 _I want him to see! I want him to watch it destroyed._

He carried my legs to the lake and my instincts were to struggle at the sight of the body. The last thing I wanted was to poison the water with that evil thing, but he didn't let me stop or even slow.

 _I! Want! It! Gone!_

My arms drew back and before my father could stop what I was doing, a burst of unnatural strength shot through me, the bat swung hard and left my hands.

It sailed, farther and higher than should have been possible. I heard someone call out in disbelief as they watched its progress.

"Oh my god!"

From the strength and distance it flew, it was not going to land in the lake after all. It spun when I released it, gaining at least fifty feet in the air before it began to slow. As its altitude dropped it began to level out so that the barrel pointed to the ground. Then it fell so fast it was like everything had been in slow motion before I blinked.

The cap hit the pavement and there was an echoing "CRACK!" all through town. Upon impact, it burst into pieces and the barbed wire that wrapped around it unfurled like a thorny whip with a metallic ringing "TWANG".

There was a deafening silence all through those who had witnessed the symbol of our oppression shatter like the destruction of an ancient weapon from legends. At that moment I felt Glenn's presence leave me and as I felt my body being returned to me he left a doomed terror in his wake.

What did I do?

"Ho… lee… shit!"

Holy shit was right. I thought he would want to just throw the thing in the lake, not clear across it where it could explode on the pavement like a freaking firecracker!

"Holy shit!" Someone shouted again. "Oh my god! Did that… oh my god! Oh my god! A kid threw that! A fucking kid, man! Negan, did you see—,"

He was cut off as a fist slammed hard into his jaw. I jumped and saw Negan standing over the one who'd been freaking out insistently over the toss. Before I could blink my father was in front of me, keeping himself firmly between me and the enraged monster.

Negan looked positively livid, but then his expression changed very drastically and his shark eyes turned to survey me with a hungry interest.

"Strong kid you've been raising," He said invading Rick's personal space. "Jesus-fucking-Christ! What on earth do you feed her? I think I want some of it."

"N-Negan, you traded with her." Dad stated hastily, trying to get him to see reason. "You traded with her fair and square."

"I did, didn't I?" He said lowly. There was a wild fire in his eyes and my father looked as if he was deeply concerned he was about to burn me up at the sight of it. "Normally I would need to kill someone for that. Maybe a few people, and if I weren't so fucking impressed right now it'd be a long day for Miss Judith." I shivered and gripped my father's sleeve looking round him back towards the monster. "You seem to breed them well, don't you, Rick? Your son's a badass junior and your daughter could be a fucking human weapon with an arm like that. How'd she get that strong?" He demanded shortly.

My father swallowed, not knowing how he should respond so I answered for him.

"Adrenaline rush!" I announced. I didn't think he would buy temporary possession by the pissed off ghost of a man he murdered, as an answer. "Or it could just be because I'm a Grimes and I was brought up well!"

I felt my dad shift beside me and I wondered how he took that last statement.

"A kid your size that can hurl a toss like that didn't do it just by adrenaline or DNA." He said, cocking an eyebrow at me skeptically. "You're no open book. I bet you've got more secrets than the fucking Illuminati, if there are any left."

"I am too an open book." I argued, my voice squeaking a little in fright for what he would do if he began to think otherwise; but then I had to amend it, "I'm… just in a different language."

He smirked by that and turned back to my dad. "Well your daughter is just adorable and a hands-down freak." I felt a stab at being called such a thing; no one ever said things like that about me. _Strange_ maybe— _odd_ certainly, but never freak. His smile grew in a clearly unnerving way. "I think I like her. I want her here **every time** I come for a visit. And I want her finding things for me. You're getting old, Rick, because clearly she's more skilled than you are at this, so maybe it's time you pass the torch to someone else."

Out of nowhere two sharp bangs split the air and my father tumbled over, yelling out in pain and rage. I screamed seeing a spout of blood gush from his thigh and another from his foot as he lost his balance and fell to the pavement.

"Dad!"

I was about to fall next to him, and maybe staunch the bleeding, but before I could an iron grip caught my wrist just then and suspended it above my head, high enough to lift me to my tiptoes.

"Lemme go!" I yelled trying to tug out of Negan's grip on me. My fist punched out, trying to smack him but I made no contact as I struggled.

"LET HER GO!" My father roared, attempting to drag himself onto his one good leg.

"We're not going anywhere, Rick. You can relax, it's not like you can really do much else."

Then he turned to me as I fought to reach up and claw at his face with my only free hand. As terrified as I was that fear was overshadowed in favor of blind stupid fury at seeing my father injured by the thug. "Grr! I'll rip your sideburns off!"

His grip on my hovering arm tightened so hard it would definitely bruise. "Try it brat, and find out where else I can stick a bullet in your dear daddy."

I stilled ever so slightly, but maintained my furious glare on him.

"Your town works for me." He began dark and slow, piercing me with his narrowed eyes. "Your daddy works for me. Your big brother works for me. And now you work for me, too. I want you finding things for me, you understand? You're dad is going to be out of commission for a while so you'll have to pick up the pace for him. If I come back here and there's not something interesting for me I'm taking it out of his hide."

"You go right ahead then." Dad interrupted, stumbling to his one good leg. "I don't mind working on a bad—AHH!"

Dad stopped when Negan's gun spit a bullet into his right arm silencing him and making him lose his balance once again.

"I'm not talking to you, motherfucker!" Negan roared. "Stay the fuck down and butt-out of our private conversation!"

"Leave him alone!" I shrieked, drawing a knife and damn set on driving it straight into whatever shriveled tumor served as Negan's heart. It whistled as I slashed it back and forth trying to find contact with his abdomen and hopefully slash it enough to spill some of his intestines. It only reached far enough to scratch the leather before Negan caught my wrist with his other hand, joining it with the one suspended above my head and tugging the blade away. Now both my wrists were held above me, and no matter how hard I kicked or thrashed, I couldn't break free of him.

He regarded the stiletto. "Holy fuck, kid! You were totally prepared to knife me, weren't you? There was no ounce of hesitation in your eyes when you pulled that."

I kept fighting, tugging and trying to rip out of his grip but he was ten times my size and I knew the one hand he had hold on me now was strong enough to keep holding me for the entire day if he really wanted to. Just then he pulled me sharply up, tugging my body entirely off the ground to look him square in the eye. His voice once more dropped several octaves as he stared me down and I finally stilled when I felt the chill of the blade press hard against my throat.

"You're not fucking listening. As impressed as I am with your enormous balls and the cold killer stare you've mastered, it's a little grating, so unless you want me to keep on using your father as a target you better SHOW ME SOME FUCKING RESPECT!"

He roared right in my face and the force of it spooked me enough that I went limp at last, but my glare stayed on.

"That's better. Now… you went off and killed my girl Lucille." For a wild moment he looked terrifyingly unhinged, like it didn't matter if I was just a kid or not. He looked angry enough to beat the shit out of me, or worse. "By all rights I should rip your little throat out for that with this letter opener right here. There's this part of me that's screaming to do it. However, like I said I'm so motherfucking impressed by that throw that I can't seem to find it in me to do that. Anyone your size with an arm like that is way too fucking valuable to just waste like that. So you're going to work for me. When I come back here in a week I want what you found for me. If you don't fucking deliver I'm putting another bullet in your daddy, only this time it's going to be somewhere you can't take it out of. Do you understand?"

I was so furious that a pool of angry tears had slid from my eyes and I finally dropped my gaze, staring at a zipper on his jacket while my head nodded up and down in surrender. It didn't seem wise to speak; my voice would choke if I did. I was already crying and I didn't want him to _hear_ my fear as well.

"I'm glad you've come around. This is so fucking exciting. And who knows…" he announced putting pressure on the knife so that I raised my gaze back up to look at him, "if you impress me again next week, I might just reward you for your services. I don't normally do that, but since you're already such a tiny badass I might just make an exception."

With those words he threw me to the ground where I crumbled hard, scraping my hands against the pavement as I landed. I looked up at him and he pocketed my knife, winking as he turned. "I like you kid. I don't want to kill you just yet."

As he grew distant I looked around and realized that all eyes in the whole town had been aimed at us. Even the saviors had paused as they watched in awe, totally transfixed for what had transpired. When Negan turned it seemed like a bolt of lightning had struck all his men individually and they jolted back to life, finishing their work to load everything on the trucks and head out once more.

I jolted as well springing to my feet and rushing towards my dad. He was bleeding bad; the worse I'd ever seen. People were already running to help hoist him up and get him to the infirmary. He had lost some blood but otherwise he was completely conscious. I couldn't imagine how bad it must have hurt for him but he was taking it like a man.

I followed Michonne, Carl, and Aaron as they spread him on one of the surgical beds. Heath pulled a tray of instruments towards him as he rapidly looked Dad over. "Nothing looks to be majorly damaged. I think you'll live."

"That's some good news."

Michonne noticed me and Carl just then and moved us for the door as people prepared for surgery. But before I had gone I caught the words Dad shouted at me before we had gone.

"Judith! You're grounded! AGAIN!"

"That's fair!"

The door closed and Carl and I were left outside while the adults got to work.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Things are heating up now. I was waiting forever to post this chapter. Here's where things start getting good. By the way the song she sings is a poem written by me for a spur of the moment. I thought it was a bit like a nursery rhyme. Since people pretty much had to start over from scratch since the epidemic it would make sense that they might develop little rhymes to maybe teach children about the dangers of walkers and what not in the forest. So that's just a little tune Judith made up on the spot.**

 **Guys if you get the chance I would really appreciate some feedback about what you think of this story. So if you get the chance it would mean a lot to me if you review. Tell me what you like, what you dislike, what you think I could improve about it. I'm very interested to hear your thoughts. It really, really means a lot.**


	12. The Rule of Three

**Chapter 12  
The Rule of Three **  
It was an hour before we were allowed back in. Dad looked better but he was angry. When he asked if everyone could leave the room so he could talk to me alone I could definitely feel a very big lecture coming. I turned away, unable to look at him as he spoke sternly.

"This is not a good thing." He stated plainly.

I crossed my arms defensively, staring out the window. "You don't think I know that, Dad?!"

"I'm serious, Judith!"

"Look it wasn't my fault, alright! It wasn't my idea to throw it that hard it just… I was so mad and Glenn just up and started…"

"No—NO! You're not blaming this one on ghosts, alright." He announced angrily. He pointed at me for added affect. " _You_ messed up, Judith, and now Negan's going to make you pay for it, and there is not a thing I can do about it!"

His desperate angry shout was laced with hidden terror and the sound of it formed a painful lump in my throat. I looked back at him and the full weight of the situation dropped on me. For so long I worked to remain out of Negan's line of vision, but now… it looked like I had his full attention on me.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not good."

"Yeah, you said that, Dad." I moaned trying not to cry about this whole stupid situation.

"I'll talk to Aaron and Michonne." He decided, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting up shakily. "Tomorrow we'll go out and maybe if we're lucky we might manage to scrounge something up to satisfy him."

"He said _I_ had to find it, and you're hurt, Dad. You're hurt really bad."

"Which is why whatever we find you'll pass off as your own when Negan comes back."

I felt deeply insulted by that. I had been able to look out for myself this whole time and had gathered things that not even _he_ knew where to get. Did he think I was so incapable? "I can find things on my own. I'm good at it, too."

"You won't be able to go find those things because I believe I clearly grounded you."

"This is SO stupid!" I yelled, utterly furious. Angry tears gathered at the corners of my eyes as I shouted back at him. "You know I'm capable of being out there! I've been capable of being out there my whole life and I'm not afraid of anything in those woods! Not wolves or walkers or fucking Negan! You're just being a coward again!"

"DON'T YOU DARE USE THAT LANGUAGE WITH ME, YOUNG LADY!" Dad roared back, entirely unhinged by my outburst. I had never seen him look so furious with me. Not ever. The sight of it was terrifying. No wonder he commanded such respect among our community.

"Everything I have done I've done to ensure this town's safety and yours! Do you think so little of me that you don't believe I would fight back if I thought there was even a chance I could kill that bastard! Fighting back is easy, Judith Grimes. I'd kill every goddamned one of those people if I didn't know we'd all die for it-if I didn't know YOU would die for it?!"

I was silent. The tears I'd been trying to hold back finally slid out my eyes and I looked away, ashamed for the weakness as I tried to mop them up.

Dad's volume softened, but the seriousness of it did not. "Fighting is easy, Judith Grimes. It's easy for you and it's easy for me. That's why it's our first reaction towards everything. Groveling is what's hard. It the worst tasting sewage you'll ever have to stomach, but I stomach it because anything else ends with you and Carl taken from me in one form… or another.

"I will face walkers, wolves, bandits and _fucking_ Negan every day if I have to, but I will **NOT** face that. I will **NOT** risk your life for mine, Judith Grimes. Never ask me that again!"

There was a strange silence. I felt like I had been punched in the gut by those words. I couldn't remember how to breathe as I looked back at him while he straightened, limping out of the infirmary on a crutch.

"You are staying in town." He announced and I could tell by the tone that it wasn't up for negotiation or argument. "I'm getting someone to watch you at every moment if I have to, but you are **STAYING** in town. If I find out that you snuck over the walls again, you will be in for a world of trouble and I'll lock you in your room or the stockade, understand?"

I wanted to argue and shout about how unbelievably unfair this all was, but there was only one thing my dad wanted to hear from me right now, anything else would only make my punishment worse.

"Yes sir."

With those final words I turned and burst out of the infirmary trying to wipe up the tears before everyone saw. I didn't want to go home; I wanted to go to the island. I wanted to be with Vanessa and the garden and the shrines and the river Styx and just… I didn't want to be here!

All the same, I ran the distance back to our house slamming the door to my bedroom and sliding to the floor in defeat, bringing my knees to my chest and crying right where I was.

Dad didn't get it. He didn't get it at all! And I couldn't tell him or Carl or anyone because then we'd be in worse danger than ever and… and it was just… it was all… it was all just so messed up!

It was all so fucking messed up and unfair and stupid! And there wasn't a thing I could do about any of it!

In that moment of weakness and vulnerability I reached out to blame someone: Dad, Negan, me… and then I felt the chain around my neck and the charms that weighed against it.

Unfastening it, my fingers grasped at the car charm and my helplessness turned into rage.

" _Glenn_!" I hissed, glaring down at it. This was all _his_ fault! If he hadn't gotten mad and decided to play puppet master with me none of this would have happened! In a moment of rage I tugged the charm away from the rest and chucked it at the far corner of the wall. It tinged loudly against the plaster and fell away out of sight in some unseen corner of the room.

I hated him for what he did! He shouldn't have treated me like that; like a remote controlled robot. No other spirit had ever done something like that—even the meanest of them. He was supposed to have been my friend. I wouldn't forgive him for it!

Because of him I was waist deep in a whole lot of crap and now I was half a dozen different kinds of doomed.

Just then there was a knock on the door; thinking it was Michonne or Carl I shouted back, "I don't want to talk to anyone right now! Just leave me alone, alright!"

But then I heard Enid's voice as well as the yips of two different puppies.

"Well is it okay if these little guys come in at least?"

I got up, swatting away the tears as best I could before even touching the knob. I inched the door opened cautiously, seeing my friend holding an eager Sheriff and the ever calm Eclipse in her arms. I opened the door the rest of the way and allowed them entrance, taking my designated hound the moment he was over the threshold.

He licked up the remaining salt water on my face and I felt immediately better.

Enid didn't say anything as we both migrated over to the lone mattress, dropping on it as we held our pets.

We didn't say anything; not for a long time at least, deciding it was better to just watch the pups than attempt a conversation.

Finally Enid spoke.

"Maybe… maybe it's time we tell them."

I didn't have to ask her what she was talking about. "Do you think that would help the situation?"

"It could. It might…"

"And you don't think any of the Saviors will find out? You're sure that now especially it won't get back to Negan and he won't be dead set on using me in whatever way he can for it? You're sure that everyone will be safe if I were to come out about it?"

"I…"

Who was she kidding? No one could promise something like that. Negan had his eye on me now and thanks to that stupid stunt Glenn pulled anything else out of the ordinary even came up around me and I'd be shipped off to the Sanctuary on the first truck out of Alexandria.

"I'm in more danger than I ever was, Enid." I declared sternly. "I'm not telling anyone about it! And you can't tell either! It's not your life and it's not your burden."

Her face twisted in fury by that announcement.

"It _is_ my burden because I have to sit back and watch this crap unfold." She growled. "I can't say anything until _you_ decide to say _something_. Do you know how hard that is?" She ranted. But before giving me the chance to try answering, she continued.

"You think it's just going to make everything worse instead of imagining it could make things better. I don't think you do it because you think it'd be more dangerous, I think you do it because you like having that secret. It's all yours. It's like a superpower and you think you're a superhero protecting your identity or something! Well guess what, Judith—you're not! This isn't one of Carl's comic books! Negan isn't your arch nemesis and you're not going to fight the villain and save everyone!"

My face burned. "I never… that's not what I…"

Her words stung so much; mostly because I think in the deep recesses of my subconscious, that's what I had secretly daydreamt about. She was right. I wasn't a superhero. This thing—whatever I could do against the walkers… it wasn't a superpower. It just meant I wasn't appetizing enough to them.

I got up, walking around the room.

"Look I get it okay." I bit out, trying not to cry more, but failing miserably anyways. "I've just been manhandled by King Asshole, my dad just grounded me from doing what I was supposed to do, and I don't need another lecture! I thought you were going to try and—oh I don't know—make me feel a little better about this crap, but if you're just going to shout at me as well, then you can just get out!"

The moment it was all off my tong I regretted it. She looked offended and torn between doing just that, but she didn't move. Inside I was relieved by it. I really didn't want her to go. Not yet. I thought I didn't want anyone, but I really did. I wanted to talk about this with someone and I didn't want to end up chasing her off in anger as well.

She sighed. "Okay, you're right. I shouldn't have said that, and I really did come up here to try and help you out. I'm sorry I made you feel worse."

I sniffed wiping at my eyes again. The puppy in my arms yipped and struggled so I let him down. I stayed standing though leaning against the opposite wall from Enid as I watched Sheriff and Eclipse tousle playfully on the floor.

"I just want to help." She tried again.

I slid to the ground, crossing my arms over my knees. "Alright, then what should I do."

"Maybe now's the time to tell them."

"Look I know you think that's the best idea, but could we please put a push pin in that plan and come back to it later. I just don't think I can think about doing that right now."

She opened her mouth looking ready to argue but closed it just as quickly in surrender like I had asked. We were silent again. Was that the only plan she had? Telling everyone about me? Stupid… Why the hell did I let her in my room?

Just then her demeanor changed slightly. "I know the aftermath wasn't that great," She said with a careful smile, "but you know… it was pretty cool when you tossed his bat and it shattered over the pavement."

I glanced at her as she went on.

"I wish you had seen everyone's faces. I thought most of the Saviors were going to crap themselves. Negan himself even looked a little scared of you for a moment. At least for a second, long enough for that guy to freak out over the toss and Negan to gather himself enough to deck him quiet."

It hadn't been all that cool for me or Dad at the time, but to anyone else, maybe it had looked pretty spectacular.

"Did… did I really look cool?"

"Well… the explosion was pretty cool, especially the sound. You looked a little lost like you weren't even paying attention to what you were doing until after you did it."

"Well it hadn't been my idea to throw it. I didn't even really want to take it in the first place. Glenn…" I didn't know what to say about it all. Really I was just so angry about the whole situation. "I don't know what came over him but he…" my voice choked on the phrase—I just felt so betrayed! "He possessed me! He drove me around like that! And now I don't even…"

"Wait, _Glenn_ possessed you?"

"Of course he did! There's no way I could have made a toss like that on my own. _Big, stupid, dead, vengeful spirit, jerk_!"

"I didn't even know they could do that. I just thought you were seeing dead people, I didn't know they could…"

"They can't!" I hissed. "They're not supposed to, not without permission and I've never given my permission to any of them! It was stupid and selfish and violating and I won't forgive him for that! He was—he was completely out of line!"

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No! And I don't care!"

"Judith, please. This is _Glenn_ we're talking about. Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes."

There was more silence. Then Enid began again, this time very carefully. "I'm not trying to justify what he did, because you're right, it was completely out of line… but it would make sense he would try something like this, considering the way he was murdered. Maybe he just wanted some justice."

" _Justice_?"

She cut me off before I could continue in outrage. "Look, I get that you're angry, it wouldn't make sense if you weren't. But maybe he was just desperate and tired of waiting for that bastard to be killed already, so he went for the next best thing. He deserved that much."

"So you're saying that it was okay for him to possess me like that? It was okay for him to _use_ me like that?! Just as long as he got his "justice" it was okay to make me feel helpless against his control? That's what you're saying?"

"No that's not what I'm saying. You're twisting my words. I'm just saying… what I'm trying to say…" Enid opened her mouth but closed it again as she seemed to understand where I was coming from. Something else seemed to cross her face, as if the conversation were reminding her of something else— something darker.

She face-palmed by that and groaned as if she were suddenly disgusted by her own words. "Ah… what am I saying? Of course it wasn't alright! It wasn't alright at all! Fuck!" She rarely used profanity, but it seemed as if she was appalled enough to warrant that sort of language. "This is so messed up!"

"That's what I've been saying!"

We tried to talk through the events of the day and ran over different possibilities and plans long after even the sun had set and the light in the room had grown dim, but in the end nothing was decided. I had no idea what I was going to do and neither did my friend.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Short chapter today, compared to yesterday but I really wanted to get this one out as well. Thank you so much for the encouragement in your reviews. Keep them coming.**


	13. Naegling is Forged

**Chapter 13**  
 **Nægling** **is Forged**

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Something woke me up in the middle of the night. A miserable moan as it repeated over and over again.

I lifted my head and saw the outline of someone sitting at my desk, rocking back and forth as a hand gripped their face in agony. Blinking wearily I looked over as recognized who it was.

"Glenn?"

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He moaned over and over again.

I sat up uneasily, spooked by this new development. I had never seen any spirit look so desperate and helpless before. What was Glenn doing now?

"Please forgive me." He begged looking up at last. His eyes were different, empty and black and full of such sorrow and desperation that it threw me off for a moment. His pathetic plea, doubled with the expression in his face struck something in me and made me want to forget entirely about what he did and just forgive him, but the pride in me wouldn't let it go so easily.

"How can you ask me to do that after what you did, Glenn? You did more than control me. You dominated me…"

His head bowed in agony as he stared at his hands. "I know. I'm… I'm a monster. You can't hate me more than I hate myself."

As angry as I was, this was still my friend and he deserved an opportunity for forgiveness. I got to my feet and stood in front of him. "Will you ever do something like that again?"

"Never!" He vowed. "I will never do such a thing again. I swear."

I let his vow hang in the air before I moved towards him, "Then I forgive you, Glenn. And I'm sorry you felt desperate enough to take matters into your own hands. I'll try to do everything I can to put your spirit to rest."

"I can't rest," He announced. The declaration looked like it was bringing him immeasurable pain that he was trying to ignore. "I have to watch over Maggie and little Hershel. I can't rest."

I crouched down to meet his gaze. "You're getting sick, Glenn. Your murderer is making you sick. You're full of so much anger and vengeance. You need to go on, like Abraham and T-Dog. They're waiting for you."

His expression turned just as rapidly from desperate to angry. The blackness in his eyes spread and he looked terrifying. "Why do I have to go on if there are others that can stay?" He announced in a hiss that was not his regular voice. "Hershel and Beth and Lori are all still lingering. Why don't you tell them to go on?!"

"Their killers have been dealt with. Yours hasn't and it's eating you up, making you something that you never were in life. Not once."

" **Things are different.** " He stated in that same inhuman hiss.

Just then he rose to his feet and towered over me. The darkness in his eyes crawled through his veins and traveled through his body straight through his hands and feet. But it didn't stop there. It swept from his feet like a strange shadow till it engulfed my entire room, swallowing up the dim light and creating a void where the only things that existed were me and him.

" **No one will do it. No one will avenge me. Not even Rick.** "

"Glenn," I tried to reach for him carefully. "This isn't you talking. You never once spoke about vengeance. You never once thought about "getting even", even when you had the right to. How can you say this now?"

"I want my son to live without fear. I want Maggie to be able to raise him in freedom. I want that tyrant destroyed!" The darkness just then seemed to be pulling me under like I was stuck in quicksand or tar. I tried to pull away but I only sank faster into it. I looked back at the spirit and was terrified to realize he did not look like Glenn at all.

" **And if you won't do it—then I'll find someone who will**!"

"Glenn, NO!" I reached for him but the tar pulled me under before I had a chance to scream for help.

* * *

I woke up breathing hard and trembling all over.

My eyes snapped opened to find the light of sunrise streaming in through my window. I kept my eyes opened wide, frightened of blinking and finding the tar behind my lids and Glenn's dark vengeful spirit. My eyes stared at the ceiling, my body straight and rigid as I lied on my back to peer at it.

That dream had been among one of the worst nightmares I could ever remember having. Glenn was worse than I thought. The only thing that seemed to hold any chance of putting him to rest was the idea of killing Negan. But what would that do?

Glenn might go on at last, but what if Negan decided to linger in his place? If someone as brave and forgiving as Glenn could turn into something that terrifying, I could scarcely imagine what someone like Negan could become. And the worst thing was that I'd be the only one to see him. He'd be there everywhere I turned and went. He'd follow me always and there would be no escape. That seemed almost more terrifying than letting him live.

What the hell could I do?

* * *

My head rested in my arms as I leaned against the porch railing to watch my dad and Aaron pack up some supplies. I was so angry I could barely look at him. He knew I was staring but he ignored it until it was that time to move out at last.

He was hobbling on his bad leg, though he was doing his best to muscle through it. Out of instinct I looked away from his struggle. It just made me angrier but I kept my mouth shut till he finally was ready to say goodbye.

He approached but I turned away, glaring at the tree in our front yard.

"I'm going." Dad said.

"I don't care." I bit out angrily.

"Judith, please I don't…"

"No!" I cut him off, staring back at him. "I should be going along. I should be looking, too. You said I was capable of being out there. Why do I have to be stuck here?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been over this."

"No _you've_ been over this! _You're_ the one who should be staying behind!" I flung my arm towards his bad leg. "You can barely walk. You're going to get yourself or Aaron killed out there and I'm not going to cry when you do. You know what I'm going to say when you come back as a ghost? I'm gunna say "Told you so" and you're going to turn around and say back, "Yeah, I guess you did." And I won't cry because I was right!"

He looked like he wanted to say something angry right back at me, but he reframed, closing his mouth to sigh.

"I'll be back in a few days."

"No you won't," I snapped matter-of-factly.

He said nothing but turned away. For some reason I was angrier for his composure and had even wished slightly that he would yell at me again and stay longer to do so. But he didn't.

"I'm telling you right now I'm not going to cry!" I shouted at his back, thinking that would at least jar him enough to turn, but he didn't. I was furious and desperate to get him to stay.

"Yell at me!" I shouted. "Damnit, yell at me!" He opened the car door, but before he got in I ran at him, desperately trying to hold him back. "Don't go! You won't come back if you go!"

"I'll be back in a few days" He said resolutely.

"At least let me come! I can help. Please let me come, too!"

He only untangled from my arms and got in the car. "Three days." He promised. "I'll be back by then."

"Dad!" But the car was already pulling out of the gate and Michonne held me back so I wouldn't follow.

* * *

"He shouldn't have gone. He's gunna get himself killed!" I sat on the edge of Carl's bed while we talked together in his room. He didn't look at me while he whittled away on something.

"That's Dad's decision then." Carl responded.

"To die?"

"Dad's survived worse. Much worse, Judith. He'll come back."

It was a bit rare these days when the two of us ever hung out. In all honesty, I preferred Enid's company. But today we were both feeling a bit bitter; me with being left behind and him being left behind to play babysitter. He was so often with Dad or Michonne learning what it meant to be a leader and what not and I was off doing my own things. The only real times we were together was when we had to do chores or in the evening when Bianca was on. People suspected he would probably follow in Dad's footsteps, if that jerk Spencer would stop getting in his way already.

We sat together in his room and I fiddled with one of the animal caricatures he had littered around every flat surface. Over the years he'd gotten pretty good in his skills for whittling, though I knew his true interest was to become a blacksmith if only Dad would let him go to Hilltop to apprentice there.

He said he wanted to be useful, but I think he really just wanted to make sharp things. In my opinion he was still able to help make plenty of useful things already. Carpentry, after all, was always useful.

Just then Carl handed me what he'd been working on. I turned it in my hands and realized it was a new slingshot. The shaft was carved from redwood and looked like it had been sawed off of something else while a horseshoe screwed into the frame served as the prongs. It wasn't near as nice as the one Dad had given me as a birthday present but it was sturdy and would do the job. Plus Carl had worked hard to make it for me. I turned it in my hand and stopped when I noticed an inscription carved into the wood with fading gold lettering.

My hand went to my mouth as I gasped in shock.

 _Lucille_

"Is this…?" I couldn't even say it.

"I gathered up the other pieces and burned them in our fireplace." Carl stated. "I don't' know why I didn't toss this one in, too. But I couldn't for some reason."

"Why would you do this?"

He sat back in his chair and rubbed his neck. "I'm not even sure. It's probably in poor taste. Maybe I just wanted to rub it in Negan's face for once. Maybe I wanted a reminder that good things can come out of bad things—I don't know."

I didn't know what to say or how to feel. This was the weapon that had killed Abraham and Glenn. This was the weapon that Negan threatened and intimidated us with. This was the weapon that I had destroyed.

But it wasn't…

It was something new.

I didn't know what to do with it—if I liked it, if I wanted to use it, or if I just wanted to throw it away.

"Look you don't have to use it." He said, seeing the look in my eyes. "I'm not saying you have to. I'm not even sure if I want you to, really. I made it mostly to remind _me_ of those things. I don't want to forget what it did even if I do hate it, but maybe in your hands it'll become something else."

I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know what to say or if anything was appropriate to say.

"I just need one thing changed on it." I gripped it hard and turned Carl's attention to the inscription. "Is there any way to erase this part here?" My finger traced a line through the last three letters in the name. Without a word Carl took it from me, turning back to his work table and grabbed a piece of sandpaper. He rubbed circles over the letters, wearing them down to nothing so that even the name of it was no more.

 _Luci_

The weapon was new entirely now. It was like… legendary. One sword forged from the pieces of a different darker weapon. Somehow, I was certain something like this had been described in a sort of old tale of heroes, but I couldn't remember which one that had been.

Even with that in mind we both couldn't stop staring at it, uncertain if this was okay or not. This thing had killed our people and who knew how many others. It was a symbol of our oppression and at least two other communities.

"Is this right?" I murmured.

"I don't know." Carl admitted. "But it would be nice to show him that it's yours now. That you can do whatever you want with it. He can take it back, sure, but it'll never actually be his again."

"That would be nice." I guess I was keeping it then. It would rest in my back pocket till I could make a new holster for it. "Thank you, Carl."

He shrugged.

"How do you think Dad will react when he sees it?"

His shoulders dropped in ennui, as if he didn't even want to think about it. "I don't know. But it's not his call. Use it, don't use it, I don't care and he shouldn't either."

He turned his back on me once again, but I didn't leave just yet. I looked down at the weapon in my hands and sighed, dropping my shoulders the same way Carl's had.

"Why is this happening?"

"I've been asking that question for eleven years." He said. "And I still don't know why."

My gaze turned into a glare as I mumbled. "Why did I have to poke my nose where it wasn't supposed to be? I should have just kept walking."

"Are you talking about when you were in the woods?"

"Yeah. If I'd just kept going then I wouldn't… but then he'd still be…" I stopped those thoughts in their tracks. I knew that if it were any other way he would still be toying with my dad and brother and making them hurt worse and worse. Better he was toying with me, I know they didn't think so, but he couldn't hurt me the way he hurt them. At least not yet. I think he thought since I was so young I could get away with a little more and because of that innocence I think he thought it was amusing in some way, almost like I was a kitten trying to roar at a tiger yet I only managed some weak high-pitched meows that were more adorable than fierce.

The scratches I made never even broke his hide. At the most it only made him irritable. I thought I was biting at a snake's head, but it was just his tail whipping back and forth.

I felt stupid for even trying, but I just couldn't stop running my mouth in his presence. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, why did I always have to open my mouth?

* * *

 **Author's notes: Thanks for all the reviews, guys. They really help so keep them coming.**

 **I'm posting two chapters today. For those of you who don't know Hrunting and** **Nægling are swords of legend from the poem of Beowulf. The first was shattered in a battle between Grendel's mother and though it doesn't say so I have this theory that Nægling may have been forged from the pieces of the first. I know I'm really grasping here but I was doing research of legendary weapons that were made from the pieces of another and came up with pretty much nothing.**

 **I hope that doesn't look tacky or half-assed.**

 **Again thanks for the reviews.**


	14. The Lion and the Beetle

**Chapter 14  
The Lion and the Beetle  
**There's this fairytale. In it there is a proud lion. He would walk the length of a massive forest of which was his kingdom and roar out how fine and great he was. Upon his passing all the other animals would bow in respect to him and no one would dare to make fun of or refuse to show their respect to the lion for he was indeed the king of the forest.

One day there was to be a splendid parade and the king of the beasts would be featured in it. The vain lion decided to don his finest robe and his largest fanciest medals. He even wore a shining jeweled crown atop his great mane. Among the big animals there was a small beetle that could barely be seen by any of the larger animals.

As the king passed by, all the animals bowed in respect towards him. Meanwhile, the very small beetle kept looking up but made the mistake of looking directly at the king. The lion then asked her to bow before him and the beetle responded with, "But Your Majesty, I am bowing."

"You are so small. I can't see you bowing before me." The king replied.

Then the beetle asked the lion king to look at her closely, however the weight of the jewels, crown and robe, made the king very top-heavy so when he leaned down to look closer he lost his balance, fell on his head and rolled over and over in the mud.

And while the Lion had been busy making a fool of himself to his other subjects, the little beetle scurried away out of sight. The moral of this story is this: pride cometh before the fall.

You could say Negan had some big ego issues which is why he is understandably the Lion in this tale and while there may not be death at the end of this story, I at least resolved to make him look like a fool as often as I could manage it if he would insist on turning attention towards me.

During the days my father was away people continued to distract me with chores and tasks in his absence. Michonne and Carl took up the majority of that time by making me take care of the dogs, helping Gabriel with the sheep, or giving me this and that sort of job and task if there was ever a moment when I appeared to be idle.

Just like Dad promised I was never allowed to be left alone. I suppose he expected I would go AWOL the first chance I got.

Well… he'd probably be right then.

It was infuriating to have eyes on me all the time but Michonne absolutely refused to let me go anywhere without someone. Finally I said something about it.

"Come on, Michonne. I get Dad being this overbearing but I thought you might ease up a little."

"Boss's orders, honey."

"You know I'm capable of being out there. I've lasted on my own out there for years."

"I'm sure you are, but this is a punishment and you're going to do your time just like anyone else."

I was silent as we continued to weave the basket packs we were working on. We worked in silence preferring to cater to our wondering thoughts over speaking out loud when something started to bother me just then.

"Michonne, how big do catfish get?"

"It depends on where you're at and what species it is." She said. "In the Mississippi they can grow to be as large as small whales."

"…Do they really?"

"Yep."

My shoulders dropped at the confirmation. I had really held out the hope that Negan was a character made of nothing but lies and deceit. It galled me like no other to find that that farfetched tale had been truthful after all.

Ah who cared?! So he told the truth this one time. It didn't make him less of the monster he was.

The end of the three days finally came and the morning of I paced the porch anxious and waiting till something finally drew my attention towards the gate.

Words could not describe the relief that swept over me at the sight of my dad driving into town just as he said. For three agonizing days I waited, fearing that something terrible would happen. His bad leg would slow them down. He would be killed or bitten. I was sure of it and the agony of that prediction tore me up.

But then they both rolled inside the fence and I could barely contain my relief at the sight of him. I ran forward as he unloaded from the car and nearly toppled him over as I embraced him hard.

It seems my witchy spells were still working at least. The comfrey protection pouches I'd hidden in their left pockets did their jobs well enough, so that was a large relief that some things could go right for once.

They didn't find a whole lot unfortunately, mostly junk that could probably be recycled into somewhat useful tools. The most valuable things were some chickens and a duck they'd found around an abandoned farm, but otherwise the rest wasn't all that impressive and when Negan came the next day he was even less overwhelmed at the sight of it.

Today Negan didn't want to talk to my dad. When he entered he brushed the man promptly off and demanded to know where I was. At the mention I materialized behind him, making him jump slightly by my stealth.

"Jeeze, kid, we need to get you a bell or something!" Then he put a hand on my shoulder and asked me to take him to his offering today. He ordered my dad to help them load up the supplies while he spoke with me though.

"Is this it?" He asked, an eyebrow raised and clearly unimpressed by the meager load.

I nodded.

"Did you find this stuff all on your own?"

My teeth clenched. "Not all of it."

His hand on my shoulder tightened slightly. His voice was low and he leaned a bit down to my ear. "And you wouldn't lie to me, sweetie, would you?"

My heart jumped a bit by that and I could feel an uneasy sweat break out at the back of my neck.

"No." I said a bit too quickly.

The silence that stretched was pure agony. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." I declared without missing a beat.

"Strange… because from what I know about you, your element seems to be more for the forest and fresh foods than these… hard goods here. Plus I don't suspect you'd be able to go very far on just your legs, unless you can drive. Can you drive? Somehow, that wouldn't surprise me much."

"No, I can't drive. I just went with them on a supply run."

"Oh yeah. And who's them?"

"Aaron and my dad."

"Where did you find all that stuff?"

"An old barn."

"You sure? I was under the impression that everything from here to Pennsylvania was probably picked clean by now."

"I guess we just got lucky, then."

He looked down at me and steered me away, touring the town with me as his guide. He already knew it well enough, but I guess he just wanted to talk with me alone. I didn't want to but there was nothing I could do about it.

 _Glare and bear it_ , I told myself. _Just glare and bear it_.

"You know, Judy, I know plenty about your brother and your daddy, but I know so little about you. Strange isn't it?"

"Not really." I knew why he didn't know much about me and he did, too. He was just being coy.

"Well I think I'd like to take this opportunity to get to know you a little better."

"I already told you I was an open book, nothing much interesting to know."

"Bullshit." He snapped, resorting back to his usual profanity. The more he talked the darker his tone got and the greater my apprehension grew. "You're not an open fucking book. You killed my girl Lucille. Now you might think she was just an inanimate object. An inconsequential piece of wood wrapped carefully with barbed wire… **not** something to be **cherished** , but you'd be **dead fucking wrong**."

Just then he turned me to face him and I saw the complete unnerving look in his eye. He looked utterly wrathful.

"Lucille was a lady… but at times, yeah… she wasn't so nice… truth is… Lucille was a cold hearted **bitch**. But she was **my** bitch. That bitch saved my life more times than I could remember. She's the only bitch I ever truly loved." He gripped my shirt and I was so scared I thought for a moment I might wet myself for how petrified I was.

"I don't fucking care if you're a kid. In my book if you so much as hit my girl against something she didn't like you ought to be dead. You want to know a secret? Up until you shattered her like a fucking stained glass window I really liked you. You're like your brother. I never had kids of my own but when I saw your brother, got the chance to know him I thought to myself, if I ever did have a fucking kid, I'd want a kid like this fucking kid. And then I met you and… fuck, you might say I'm jealous as hell of your old man. Tough, resourceful fucking kids he's got… the both of you."

I couldn't speak, or think of anything other than his words. What was I supposed to say to something like that? Were there any words after hearing something so insane? I just stayed quiet.

"So you're going to compensate for it by telling me about you. I'm going to ask you a question, and if you don't fucking tell me the truth… I'll make sure you never even think about lying to me again. Got it?"

Mechanically my head nodded up and down. In the back of my mind I panicked. Most of the truth he might not believe or was so dangerous not even my own family knew about it. Despite consequences I couldn't risk my secrets like that.

I just couldn't!

"Alright then," and his demeanor changed so suddenly it made my head spin. One minute he was looking like he would tear my throat open and the next he looked totally at ease. "Let's see then, oh right; did you really find that supplies for me?"

My head turned down as I rubbed my arm shakily and shook my head once in response to his question.

"I thought so." He huffed. "Now why didn't you do as I say?"

"I'm… I'm grounded." I said softly. "Dad thought I could be more useful around town."

"Shame… it seemed like you were plenty useful before. Let's see if we might be able to change your dad's mind on that."

"I'll talk to him tonight." I said quickly, before Negan could make his way towards my father. "We'll work something out."

"Wouldn't want you to get into even more trouble on my account. Maybe I should have a word with him. I'm sure I can make him see reason."

I could hear the double meaning of that phrase and I knew just how Negan would make my father see reason. "I think I should really learn how to handle these problems on my own." I offered delicately. "The challenge… helps me grow."

"Maybe, but it's never wrong to ask for help every once in a while."

"Of course," I said uneasily. Why couldn't he just take no for an answer? "And if I ever need help on something I'll be sure to ask."

 _I wouldn't ask him for water if I was on fire!_

I'd rather eat tar or willingly fall to my death over a precipice with a stampede of water buffalo right under my back! Better to let go on my own than let him sink his claws in me and give him the satisfaction.

"You much prefer working alone, don't you?"

I didn't really, but it was better to work alone than risk having an accomplice I couldn't trust. I couldn't always rely on Enid's help. She had other things she had to tend to. Still, it was better to pretend that was true rather than risk anymore suspicion. "I think people… slow me down. It's easier working alone and I can go where I want to without someone filling the silence with noise and attracting attention from walkers and scaring away game."

"So you hunt?"

"Nothing big, like deer or dogs. Just birds and small animals and fish, really."

"What do you use to hunt with… oh right; your slingshot. The one you traded to me was very well made. Did you get a replacement yet?"

The Luci slingshot burned in my pocket and my heart sped more than it did before. The sweat on my neck grew hotter and slicker. "I haven't… really had an opportunity to go out for a while."

"I know. But did you replace it?"

I tried not to look down at it, but my voice trembled and I was starting to panic a little. "Um… y-yes. Sort of."

"Let me see it then."

I snatched it from my back pocket, holding it behind my back as sweat grew over my palm, making it slippery. My hand trembled over it and grew very agitated while I fumbled over my words. "Well… I-I haven't t-tested it you see, and I'm… I'm not sure if it's even..."

"Give it here. Let me see it."

I stared back at him, clearly terrified but there was no way I could get out of it, not unless I decided to chuck it in the lake, and I was pretty sure that would make things a whole lot worse than they were already. I doubted I'd be able to pull off another Lucille toss and get away with it a second time.

Negan wanted the slingshot and he would get the slingshot even if he had to pry it from my cold dead hands. Trembling all over, I placed it in his outstretched hand. He traced over the horseshoe and stretched the band experimentally.

"This isn't as nice as the one you gave me."

That comment would have made me smirk if I already wasn't so scared. Then I saw his face sober as he discovered the name on the shaft and we both froze. I forgot how to breathe and I didn't dare look into his eyes, preferring to keep my gaze on the ground while I waited for his reaction.

Then I heard him chuckle.

"This is so fucking adorable." He pronounced. I looked up and saw him grinning wide. "Did you really name this thing after my girl?"

"I…"

"No wait. This is from her handle isn't it?"

I couldn't move.

"You fashioned your new slingshot out of what was left of my Lucille. That's just the sweetest little thing I could have ever imagined."

I stared at him in shock. That hadn't been what I was expecting, or hoping for really. I kept the thing with the image of him being so infuriated about it but also being unable to emotionally respond to it other than throwing it away or giving it back. This reaction was wildly unexpected.

"I didn't…" I began, uncertain how I could respond to this development.

"I want to see how it works." He said, putting it back in my hands and placing his own on my shoulders to steer me towards a back yard. "Are you a good shot? You must be if you can manage hunting so well." He pointed to a spot on the wall. "Can you hit that stain?"

"I—I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"All slingshots feel different. I usually need to break into it, first."

"Well… don't let me stop you."

On edge with the audience today I scoured the ground with an adequate rock. When I found it I took aim at the wall, but I was trembling so hard that I could barely keep my grip on it. When the projectile set sail it struck the wall two feet above the stain. Negan scoffed.

"Pitiful." He mocked. "Are you sure you're a hunter?"

His words galled me. Of course I was a hunter. I was just nervous that one time. I could hit it! I crouched down and looked for more rocks. When I stood again I took aim like before, only this time, I was fuelled by anger rather than fear. Angry and confident shooting always had the best results.

I struck it dead center that time and Negan whistled low. "Well then, I stand corrected. Pretty impressive. Do you kill roamers out there with that thing?"

I nodded. "Their heads are usually pretty rotted out, so they can be killed easily."

"How else do you deal with them?"

"Well… they're pretty stupid once you know how to control them. They'll follow anything that makes a sound or moves so if I keep that in mind, I can detour them pretty well. Also I'm faster and I can dodge around them okay. I don't usually worry about trying to kill them if I don't have to."

"Fuck…" He said looking at me in a way that set me on edge. "You know, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." He lifted the hand holding the slingshot and I followed his gaze to the word Luci. "You're flattering me way too much there, sweetheart."

I hated the delight he got with it. If I'd known he would take such pleasure in this I would have just thrown it away. "Well I needed a new one." I scoffed. "Supplies are limited at the moment and sometimes I have to improvise."

That didn't discourage him though.

"It's like she's living on somehow." He said fondly, and I hated it. I hated it so much! He only continued though. "It's like this is some kinda little daughter she left behind. That's comforting to me. It's seems almost appropriate, don't you think? Your own mother died bringing you into the world now didn't she?"

My mouth went dry instantly and my voice caught in my throat by those words. "How do you know about that?"

"Your brother and I have had our little chats before. As it turns out I know about that day very well." And he laughed in a way that made my skin crawl. "You should know how traumatic that experience was for him. How fucking much it messed him up. Does he ever talk about it with you?"

I shook my head, my voice growing tight with the knowledge that he would be privy to something so incredibly personal and invasive. "Dad and Carl don't talk about it."

"Do you know anything about that day?"

"I know _everything_ about that day." I stated quietly.

"You do, huh? And who told you about that charming little bedtime story?"

I wasn't going to answer him. Mom had come to me nearly every night to tell me that story while I was growing. I still found the story of the rose bud so beautiful, but it was Maggie who filled in some of the grimmer details for me. She had been gentle about it, but it still didn't banish the thought that somehow my mom's death was in some way _my_ fault. Maggie had been very firm in explaining that none of it was in any way my doing and that it was simply a series of unforeseen events that no one had any control over.

After that it was a reoccurring dream that often haunted me in later years. Some things might have change a bit; the true events might become mixed with elements of the fairytale, the rose bush might come to life and strangle my mother, or I didn't bloom from the bud my brother picked, but wilted and withered away. Those were the worst dreams of all.

"I can't remember who it was anymore." I said in that same quiet tone.

"Like hell you don't remember."

"I don't." I said more firmly. "I can't remember who told me first."

He scrutinized me, as if trying to detect if I was lying or not. He must not have seen it because he went on. "Bet that really screwed you up, didn't it? Finding out you killed your mom like that."

"I. Did. Not. Kill. My. Mom." I growled darkly. "It was all just a bunch of unforeseen circumstances that no one had any control over." Then I looked him in the eye, my voice growing low and alien while I stared back at him with a deadly, vengeful expression. " **Don't ever** try and convince me otherwise."

Negan was silent for a moment while he took in my expression; dark and furious and sinister, and I saw for a brief moment the unease lurking behind his gaze as he looked back at me. Even with that he still tried to look like it hadn't shaken him.

"Of course not. You were just a baby. You were in no way responsible for what happened." He said in a voice that could have been mistaken as sympathetic. "No. Your brother was the one that had the honors, wasn't he?"

I didn't say anything.

"Carl was the one to shoot her in the head, wasn't he?"

"Shut up." I murmured.

"He shot your mama dead, didn't he?"

"I said SHUT UP!" I looked up at him with rage, wanting to take the knife in my boot and slice it across his throat at the mention. He had no right to talk about that subject. None at all! "You don't know anything about it, SO SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH ALREADY!"

In all honesty I didn't know a whole lot about it either, but I knew the ghost of it. I saw it on Carl and Dad's faces all the time. I saw it in the way they sometimes looked at me. Those two tried to hide the regret and anguish of that day but sometimes it lingered on their faces while they were looking at me.

"Ooh," Negan said smiling interestingly. "Using grownup words now are we? It looks like I touched a nerve there. Does that bother you? Talking about your mom?"

I didn't say anything, choosing to fix my gaze on an anthill rather than concentrating on Negan and the look of pure glee on his face. It delighted him to get under my skin like that and the more I responded the more pleasure he took from it. I shouldn't have been so easy to read.

 _Bury it_ , I thought. _Bury it all deep. Don't respond, anymore. Just close it all off._

But there must have been something on my face making Negan pause for a moment. Just then his voice changed to something remorseful. "Ah jeeze. I'm sorry, Judy. It's easy to forget you're just a kid. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings."

Hearing him address me by name jarred something in me and I felt immeasurable offense by such a suggestion. "You can't hurt my feelings." I announced glaring at the ant hill. "Hurting my feelings would imply that your opinion matters… and it doesn't."

That interested him greatly and even if I didn't see it, I knew there was an amused spark that lit in his eyes and his tone by those words. "Oh it doesn't, does it?"

"No."

"Then you know what I think?" He asked delightfully.

"Just because your opinion doesn't matter, doesn't mean I'll stand and listen to it." I countered sternly.

He stepped right up to me, using his enormous size to intimidate me, his voice low and threatening. "You know, you talk a big talk and fuck if you weren't so small I might have even forgotten you were a kid," He paused letting it sink in before his voice dropped again. "But I think you're forgetting who you're talking to. So drop the attitude or I'll bend you over my knee, you hear?"

Right after he said such a thing my mind leapt to conclusions and I backed away hastily with my hands going to my behind.

"O-OH?! And touch my bottom!" I shrieked at him, appalled entirely by the idea. "That's all you've been after from the start is my bottom! CHILD LOVER!"

I imagined him as a hundred different horrible things; murderer, warlord, bully, thug, thief, raider, intruder… but I didn't think he'd be one of _those_. Yet the more I thought of it I realized it made a horrible kind of sense with his uncomforting interest in me now. I mean, it was just one brief meeting in the woods for goodness sakes! THE SICKO!

His face changed drastically at the new development. First he looked confused as if he'd thought I would go quiet by his threat instead of shriek with worry, then he looked appalled by the accusation.

"No! That's not what I… How do you even know what a child lover is? You're like eight!"

"You don't even deny it!" I cried out in disgust, ignoring the urge to correct him on my age. "THAT'S _GROSS_! _YOU'RE_ GROSS!"

He looked sincerely angry and disgusted by such a suggestion. "I am a whole lot of fucked up stuff, but child lover will never be one of those."

"Yeah right!" I hissed, digging in my pocket and grabbing the spray bottle inside it. I held it threateningly, ready to throw it at him if he moved in a way I disliked. "Get away from me!"

His brow cocked at the sight of it. "Is that supposed to be pepper spray?"

" _No_." I said, looking at him like he was a complete idiot, because really, where in the world would I get pepper spray? "It's poison ivy oil—stings like a bitch and it will blind you… I think… pretty sure it will. I haven't really tested it out yet. It's sort of still on its trial run. Don't make me use you as a lab rat!"

The threat made him pause as he processed what I had just said. Then his hand went to his mouth as he tried to unsuccessfully hide a smile and stifle a snort. "You… had that in your pocket?"

"I don't have pepper spray." I explained. "But I can improvise."

We both turned as someone approached. Dad stood in front of us looking concerned and eager for Negan to leave already. He wasn't the only one. When he saw me pointing the perfume bottle at the man his brow dropped in confusion.

"Judith, what are you doing?"'

"I believe your daughter was going to spray me with… poison ivy oil was it?"

"Negan's a child lover!" I blurted in my defense. "He's gross and old and it was self-defense—or it would have been."

"Fuck, I am not a ch—!"

"You're supplies is loaded." Dad interrupted coming to my side and putting his hand on my shoulder in a clearly protective manner.

"It sounds as if you're trying to get rid of me, Rick. Is that what you're trying to do?"

"Picked up on that di—," Dad slapped a hand over my mouth before I had time to finish my insult, speaking over my words.

"I don't imagine you'd like hanging around here more than you have to, especially when you have all that supplies to unload and sort through." He looked down at my head while I struggled to worm out of Dad's hold on me so I could spew more insults at the horrible man. He wordlessly kicked me in the pants, reminding me to mind my manners once again.

I stopped struggling and held my rear where he booted it. _Geez… right in the tailbone…_

"I guess the company isn't all that great now that you mention it." Negan said looking with distain down at me. Then he stepped up to Dad, glaring at him with all the intimidation he possessed. "You're child's a brat, and you're fucking pissing me off! I know she didn't help find the shit I specifically asked for, Rick. I gave her a job to do, and if she's not going to do it, she'll be accompanying me to the Sanctuary to learn the sort of discipline she's so clearly lacking here, because from what I can tell from her behavior, you're a pretty crap-ass father."

I looked up to see Dad bristle by the line. He was a lot of things and he had _done_ a whole lot of things, but where his kids were concerned he had done his absolute best and it was all he could do. He wouldn't let Negan of all people comment on his parenting abilities.

"We'll be back in a week and if I don't come back to something from her, I'll be taking someone's hand for it." He turned from us, yelling over his shoulder, "Keep that in mind."

And then he was gone at last.

* * *

 **Author's notes: End of chapter 14. Things are getting good and I'm so excited. Judith is so sassy! I love writing her.**

 **Guys keep up the reviews. I love, love, love hearing your thoughts! XD They really keep the story moving along.**


	15. The Book of the Dead

**Chapter 15  
The Book of the Dead**  
It had taken a bit of convincing before Dad finally let me forage in the forest like I had been doing for years. It wasn't as hard as I expected it to be the second time. Perhaps the threat from Negan served in persuading him the rest of the way. He wanted me to bring someone along, though, and insisted it was him but if I was given the choice I asked for Enid instead. She got me better and we worked well with one another. I didn't like working with Dad for the simple reason being that he was so freaking overprotective and I didn't want him to find out about my power… not yet at least.

Enid couldn't always come along though and it could sometime be really hard bringing as much as I could back at times. Twice Negan's men came to town and I was certain to give them their due, receiving the fresh goods I had gathered from the forest an earning his compliments of praise each time.

I hated it all, especially when he praised me. It turned my stomach to hear those words coming from him. With everything I found for _them_ it was less I could give to my people and that was what made the arrangement unbearable.

The next week on the day of their arrival, I turned into town with a heavy sack. I had caught a fat quail, raided a nest to find fifteen tiny spotted eggs, caught two decently sized bass, fished for mussels, found some greens, and gathered up a large basket of blackberries.

It wasn't as enjoyable as it normally was, since I knew it would all be given to the Saviors when they came and I tried not to let the sight of the food make my stomach growl with longing.

As I worked, I chewed on a hunk of pine. Other people disliked the taste and most ate it only when there was nothing else to eat, but me personally, I really liked the taste. I actually found it very enjoyable and listed it in my top favorite flavors. It reminded me of the forest and was a deep, fresh taste, even if it was hard to chew. And there were worse things I could have consumed, like cigarettes or alcohol.

When I approached the gate I spotted Gabrielle just as he was closing it.

"Judith." He said in surprise before switching directions to open it once more.

"Is Dad back already?" I asked, hoping greatly that he was. Instead, my heart sank as my irritation was realized.

"No, I'm afraid he's not." And I saw the large trucks before he had the chance to tell me. "Remember, be on your best manners." He warned me.

"Aren't I always?"

He gave me a look and I surrendered. He was the boss if none of my other bosses were presently in town.

"Alright, alright I'll behave."

Before I left he put a hand on my shoulder. "I want you to know, I hate this, Judith. I don't like having you in that man's presence."

"I hate it, too." I said, not meeting his gaze. "But it's better if it's me than someone else. I know you don't think that, but it really is."

And with that I shrugged his hand off and walked on towards the most heavily guarded house. I spotted Negan while he was talking to someone and as I neared I realized it was Spencer.

I felt some big red flags waving in my head at the sight of those two. Something definitely wasn't right about this. Why was Spencer talking with Negan?

It was probably a bad idea, most of the ideas I had seemed to be bad ones lately, but I couldn't stop myself from following at a safe distance, dodging behind shrubbery and trees to keep up as they strode down the street.

"I'm thinking…" Negan began as Spencer kept pace with him, "and I think about how Rick fucking threatened to kill me. How he clearly hates my fucking guts… but he's out there right now like a busy fucking bee… gathering shit to give me—on a leg that's still healing not to mention, so I don't hurt any of the nice folks living here, or worse, his kids; his badass kid son and his sweet, mouthy little girl so full of spunk and ballsiness. They're all swallowing that hatred to get shit done. That takes guts."

Now I knew why my dad was still alive then. Negan, on some twisted level, respected him.

He glanced back towards Spencer and continued. "Then I think about you… Spencer… the guy who waited until Rick was gone, to sneak over to talk to me to get _me_ to do his dirty work so that _he_ could take Rick's place."

Oh, so that's what it was then. That was typical. He was always calling every single one of Dad's decisions into question and they'd been butting heads for about as long as I could remember. Plus, I always felt that Spencer was spineless and here was the proof. Foolish traitor…

"If you wanted to take over why not just kill Rick and take the fuck over?" Negan asked.

I wanted to scoff. Michonne, Carl, Aaron and the rest would never allow it. Spencer would be dead before Dad hit the floor, and he didn't even have the stones to assassinate my father. He was a coward, that's why he was asking Negan to do it instead.

My thoughts snapped back as I caught something in his face just then. As Negan glanced sideways, eyeing Spencer with an odd expression while he answered his own question, just then. "You know why?"

Just then a looming dread swam over me and I could tell by the sudden glint in Negan's eye and the way his lip turned up that something terrible was about to happen.

Spencer didn't catch on as quickly while he struggled for an answer to Negan's question. "I don't… I didn't…"

But the question was actually rhetorical as he sneered at Spencer. "Because you got no guts!"

It was the fastest I had ever seen Negan move. I saw Spencer's intestines hit the ground before I knew what had happened.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was horrible. Red was everywhere, like someone had spilled a can of paint and threw it on Spencer as he lied on the sidewalk. Intestines as thick as vacuum tubing spread over the ground and the look in Spencer's face as he took his final breaths was forever frozen on his face.

My eyes traveled to the glinting knife in Negan's hand as it was catching the sun and my mind finally just registered what happened. It was quite possibly the worst thing I had ever seen in my life.

But I couldn't look away and neither could Negan, though he looked more entranced than horrified at the sight of it all.

"Oh how embarrassing!" He announced gleefully. "There they are! They were inside you the whole time. You did have guts. I've never been so wrong before in my life!" He made to turn away as he wiped his knife clean on a handkerchief one of his men handed to him. "Clean this up before a kid sees…"

He didn't finish that thought as he turned and saw me standing stiff and frozen nearby.

He looked surprised, actually surprised and even momentarily regretful, like that had been the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

"Ah fuck, Judy." He said pinching the bridge of his nose gallingly.

I didn't say a word. Without a single exchange I swung my pack around and threw the whole thing on the ground, letting the contents spill out and reminding me momentarily of a woven cornucopia. Before I heard anything else I sprinted away, intent on putting as much distance between me and that savage.

I wasn't going to go home, he'd find me there. Instead I charged towards the front gate. No one was guarding it for some reason so no one could open it in time. I think I might have been running a bit too fast for them to manage it anyways.

Years of being chased up trees by wild animals and climbing the wall on a weekly basis paid off as I skittered my sparse weight up the bars and leapt over the edge of the gate and the screened outer second. Some people yelled for me to come back right as I leapt it, but I ignored them. There were walkers on the other side and I landed on the face of one before kicking it sharply in the head, rendering it deader than before. There were a few others but I moved fast, dodging around the ambling ones that didn't dodge _first_ and I ducked into the forest before anyone could think twice. Later I would be grateful for the cover of the screened gate so no one would see the lone walker that darted away from me as I sprinted.

It felt safer in the forest. It was always safer in there. With people—with others—that's where the real danger was. That's where people died.

I ran and ran and kept running, stopping only when I reached the guards of the island.

There I stopped, leaning against the effigy of the great god.

"Hades," I gasped, panting and trying to swallow. When I calmed down enough I looked up at him. I didn't know what to say to the god of death about Spencer's passing. The man was spineless, sure, but even he didn't deserve to be gutted in such a graphic, horrible way. I turned from the god and followed the path into his army of dead.

Styx felt so quiet, but once over it, I leapt from the boat and sprinted up the path, shouting when I saw the edges of the garden.

"Vanessa? Are you here?"

"Judith?" I turned and she stood right in front of me, a look of concern on her face when she saw my anguished demeanor. I wanted to rush to her and bury my face in her beautiful housecoat, but I knew I would only burry my face in empty air. Instead I stood there, stiff and still as I sobbed at last. Her arms reached for me, but couldn't make contact.

"Oh! Oh, my little beetle. What happened?"

I couldn't speak. I was crying much too hard to get any words out, least nothing coherent.

"Come inside," She said, moving like she was trying to put an arm around me and lead me in. For a moment I imagined I could feel it, but I really couldn't.

She sat me down in the big cushioned armchair and I hugged one of the pillows tight as I tried to compose myself.

"When you're ready," Vanessa said patiently.

I sobbed a bit longer but when I calmed at last I told her what happened and I told her everything that had led to that moment prior, then I cried more after that.

Vanessa looked pityingly at me and attempted to console me once more. "Oh Beetle. I don't know what to say."

"I didn't see Spencer when he died. I mean, it wasn't like when Glenn and Abraham died. He just… wasn't there."

"Does everyone die the same?" She asked in her lesson tone when she wanted me to think critically and was testing me on something.

"No but I thought…"

"Spencer didn't have anyone here to look after. All his people were gone before he left. There was no reason to linger."

"But he wanted to be the new leader. Wouldn't he stay for a while at least?"

"He was not suitable." She said simply. "It was not his true passion. I'm sure the idea buzzed in his head quite a lot but it didn't live in his heart. His mother was the leader and somehow he thought that that made him fit for the task."

I hugged the pillow tighter. "It feels wrong to talk about him now. I don't mind talking about the living, but the dead… they might hear."

"He's moved on." She told me matter-of-factly.

"And you're sure about that?"

"Well if he were around here I'd know. When you're dead and lingering you feel things so differently. You can sense spirits easier. The body you have tends to act a bit like a muffler so you can't really feel someone the way a ghost can."

I thought about her words, but my thoughts kept returning to the debacle I was caught in.

Out of instinct I curled up with my knees pressed to my chest. "I wish… I wish John were here." I whimpered, my mind flying to my other teacher for the first time in ages. "I—I miss him so much."

"Oh… I do, too, Little Beetle." She reached for me, and I could tell by the longing in her expression she wished dearly that she could hold me if just to offer better comfort than she had to give. Her gaze lingered on me, gentle and sympathetic as she thought.

"What do I do, Vanessa?" I begged pitifully, tears pouring so profoundly from my eyes. "I don't know what to do. I feel so… lost."

She was quiet for so long that for a time I was afraid she would have no answers for me. Finally, she leaned forward. "Come with me."

Wiping up my face, I got to my feet and followed her up the stairs to her bedroom. I rarely ever went up there. Even if she was dead and she didn't technically need it, it felt intrusive to invade her private room without permission.

Inside was a little bed shoved in the far left corner under a round window and spread with white sheets and a fan quilt. A chest stood at the foot of the bed. Aside from it was a bedside table with an old oil lamp and next to that a tall bookshelf. In the opposite corner was an old vanity and on the other side of that was a chifferobe filled entirely with Vanessa's old clothes. The room opened up to a set of French glass doors that led to the bathroom and water closet. A beautiful porcelain bath stood to the left while off in the right corner was a sort of closet for the toilet and sink.

No matter how many times I visited this island I always managed to be impressed by the sophisticated beauty.

Vanessa drew close to the opposite wall facing the bed where a set of shelves nailed into the beams stood.

"Are you stronger?" Vanessa asked me and I knew she was referring to the first time we met when I was told to drag her body out and dig a grave for her. I was no less skinny than that meek little mouse, but I was much stronger than her now.

"Yes."

"Then take down the things from that second shelf."

I obeyed and when the shelf was all cleared I found an odd indent in the wall, like a door that had been cleverly hidden behind the items and books.

"Open it."

I found the notch and pulled hard. There was a creaking groan as it swung open, trailing cobwebs and dust as it moved for the first time in decades it seemed. I coughed, swatting away the dust and peering curiously inside this secret panel. Anything that needed to be locked away had to be something very important.

It was a book; an ancient tome with the impression of a winding twisted tree on the leather cover and a glyph on its spine that looked like planets and moons in their different phases.

"Bring it here, won't you?"

I picked it up and I could tell by the strange prickling in my fingers this was, without a doubt, something important _and_ powerful. It was also heavy, more so than Negan's bat Lucille had ever been. I nearly tottered over the side of the chair as its full weight slid into my arms and threatened to compromise my balance. Carefully I hopped down and dropped it gently on the wooden chest where Vanessa was seated.

She looked at the book with a strange mix of fear, disgust, and respect. Her hand hovered over the tome as she spoke carefully.

"Of all the texts, of all the spells, this is the most cursed."

"It's a curse book? Like the locked part of the spell book you showed me?"

He gaze looked very stern as she looked at me. "No… not like that."

She had my complete attention now as I gazed down at the thing with rapt attention. Unlike the Book of Shadows Vanessa often taught me from me this was something else entirely.

"What is it?" I said in the same hushed voice she carried.

"Forbidden. The Poetry of Death." Then her gaze turned gravely to me. "If ever the day comes when my Little Beetle is crushed and beaten, if whatever gods she trusts in abandons her completely, only then does she open it. And on that day she will never be the same. She will have gone away from God and mercy… forever."

I could feel the weight of her words stronger and heavier than the book itself and I could tell by her tone, this thing would cost me my soul to read from. It could offer me vengeance on my enemies if I wished it now, but I still wasn't ready to risk such a price. this was power that would snake behind any shield or spell of protection and render it entirely useless.

"Did you read from this?" I asked.

She took her time to answer. "I did. And it has forever changed me and my soul. I spoke the spells to cast one I hated into pain and suffering and the worse of that curse fell on my shoulders. Remember Little Beetle, the body's suffering is all but temporary, but the soul's suffering is eternal. You remember what I said about curses, yes?"

I flinched, bitter memories of various failed curses on Negan rising as I repeated her words from my first few months of tutelage under her. "When you cast a curse you curse two. You curse the enemy and you curse you."

"The most important rule." She hissed desperately.

"Why did you show me this?" I asked. It didn't seem to be in relation to the problems I was facing at the moment.

"To show you what could happen to people who become lost and desperate enough to resort to unnatural methods—to vengeance. To remind you what could happen to you—what you could become. Were you to take this in your hands and speak the words within, you would become as dark as your friend Glenn has turned into."

"Darker than that?"

"Worse than that."

"But you read from this book and _you're_ not like that."

"I paid a terrible cost by reading these incantations. I suffered in a way you are still too young to clearly understand. It took me an entire century to reform my soul and even after that, the darkness that came from it still lingers on my spirit; like a bloody stain on a silk dress. Never able to be scrubbed out no matter how well I wash it."

"But you don't seem evil or tainted to me."

"You have yet to see me at my worst." She turned towards the wall looking towards some distant point that remained unseen by me. "What I'm trying to warn you about is in the near future some very horrible things may come to pass to you or your family. I've shown this to you because I want you to understand what darkness is coming and the evil it brings, but I do not want you to linger in it. Even so, as God gave Adam and Eve a choice I must give one to you as well."

I stared at the tome entranced by the enormous twisted tree on the cover of it and tempted for the slightest of moments.

"Is this really a choice or a temptation?" I asked, feeling suddenly repulsed by this thing.

"It is a possibility." She corrected. "A road. A dark and treacherous road. It might lead you to safety but it is fleeting and the house you find is bleak and cold and full of things that bump and slither in the night. I was weak and allured by those dark things, seduced into the strong embrace of those choices before they stung me in the back. Be stronger than the Scorpion, Little Beetle. Wear your armor thick, and keep in the sun where you belong.

"And always be true."

* * *

 **Author's Notes: A lot of references from Penny Dreadful today. If you haven't seen the series I recommend it. Like the Walking Dead, it's going to be very graphic; lots of blood and guts and things that bump in the night.**

 **As always your comments are appreciated and I love hearing from you guys. :D**


	16. Babes in the Woods

**Chapter 16  
Babes in the Woods  
**I couldn't seem to summon the courage to go home. The peace and security of the island was far too comforting to leave and enter the frightful aura back in Alexandria, especially with our present company. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the mess of Spencer's guts spilling all over the pavement and the look in Negan's eyes as he looked down at it all.

But if I didn't go back soon, Dad would send out a search party and people would be put in danger because of me. Or maybe with luck, he wouldn't bother with one, figuring I was resourceful enough not to worry too much. I sincerely hoped so. He knew about the island. Perhaps he would think I'd go there.

I kept that in mind as I tried to take my mind off of the murder today. To distract myself, I passed the time by listening to Bianca on a windup radio. Most of what she said was unheard as I tried to settle down.

"So remember everyone, having outer and inner walls is a good thing." She announced over the miles and miles separating her from her listeners. "Even having dividers between your living areas, fields, and livestock has proven to be very beneficial. I know it's a lot more work but in the long run it's observed to be safer as well as a good fallback in case parts of your barriers fail. That way if there's a massive horde that's broken through you can retreat into inner walls and the casualty rates will be minimal."

"Another thing that's always good to have: booby traps. Explosives and pitfalls can be very reliable to set up around the perimeter of your community and outer walls. Not just for corpses but for enemies as well. Never feel it's overkill to be prepared for attackers. I don't know how many times I've heard of people or communities that were attacked and overrun simply for being unprepared for things like that. Even if it feels excessive, trust me—it's not.

"Just keep in mind to mark them accordingly for your people. This way you can at least avoid future accidents. If they trick a person they'll trick a corpse. Bells and windchimes can be used to lure corpses from your walls, so if you feel like booby traps seem a bit too dangerous especially if there's a lot of people coming in and out, see if strategically spaced bells work for you."

She went on and I listened half-heartedly. Most of what she said was stuff I'd heard before. There were a few traps around the town as she described, including some diversion methods like blockades and ditches that walkers tended to fall in, so we were a bit more prepared than Bianca needed to tell us. Out of boredom, I turned the station off and sat in silence in the specious bedroom.

I curled up on the bed with the curse book still on the chest at the foot of it. Vanessa sat beside me, sometimes filling the silence with a lullaby as I lied there.

When I was young  
And scared of the world  
My mother would sing me a song  
A tune that I keep in a sacred place  
'Cause I know that my life won't be long  
It tells of the place where you go  
When your time here on earth is through  
A beautiful place we call heaven  
Is it true?  
Please God I pray that it's true

'Cause once this land was heaven on earth  
Green hills were all you could see  
But now it's soot and steel and brick  
So it looks more like hell to me  
And each day brings more and more suffering  
And each night is silence and fear  
And I wake to the sound of your voice  
But you're not here  
Why oh why aren't you here?

So now I lay me down to sleep  
I pray the lord my soul to keep  
Please let me die before I wake  
So the lord my soul, can take  
Then maybe I'll finally find you  
'Midst the beauty of paradise  
And you'll sing not of dying but living  
Wouldn't that be nice?  
Wouldn't that be nice?

I drifted a bit into a restless sleep with dreams of my innards spilling from my stomach and demons dancing over my lifeless body. When I woke again it was dim in the room and the sun was setting. In the back of my mind I knew Dad was going to be furious that I had stayed out so late.

With that to consider I got up and left the island, saying a reluctant goodbye to Vanessa as I left. I didn't want to go. I was afraid that Negan would be waiting for me back home and would mock me for running after seeing Spencer's demise. Or worse, he would… he might…

Okay, in total honesty I wasn't sure what he would do and the uncertainty of that terrified me most. I would have rather stayed on the island to wait for my dad to come and get me when the warlord was gone, but I knew it was much more dangerous for him to wander out if he didn't have to than it was for me. So I left my sanctuary and turned home once more.

The wind picked up the moment I was on the other side and I saw heavy rainclouds moving in. I pulled the cloak closer and walked hastily.

Thunder rumbled above my head and the air became charged, preparing for rain. I tried to pick up my pace but the forest seemed to groan nervously as the beat of the leaves in the wind drowned out all thought inside my head other than the desperate need to make it back home before something toppled on me.

And then the rain came.

It started first as a light sprinkle then turned into a downpour. I was soaked in seconds and no matter how tightly I held my cloak, the rain seeped through. Thankfully it wasn't freezing, only wet and irksome. My cowgirl boots filled with water and every step I took felt like I was carrying puddles around.

I could hear walkers roaming a few yards away, gathered in a herd and ambling no closer to me than necessary.

Thunder roared above and the strange dead stopped just then, tottering in circles as they gazed up at the clouds. The sounds seem to attract them greatly but it also confused them. They saw the sparks in the sky and even reached mindlessly for the lightning, but I could tell they were unable to figure out how to reach the source of activity.

For the first time I stopped to consider these soulless creatures.

What did the world look like to them?

They were people once, with thoughts and feeling and ambitions and dreams. But not anymore. Now they just existed.

We all knew they were mindless starving monsters, intent to search out and devour anything that moved or made any kind of sound… well anything except me.

I leaned against a tree, blinking through the rain as I watched them till one seemed to sense my presence and looked towards me. It hovered for a small thoughtful moment before turning its feet around and following a different path that lead in the opposite direction. A few others noticed its change and looked only once towards me before following their companion's flight. Others further away merely followed the crowd when it began moving again, like a flock of sheep.

I sighed, feeling the weight of this strange power pin me where I stood, watching them disappear.

Why was I different? Why didn't they hurt me, or dare come near me? What was I?

I moved to turn from these things when suddenly a hand slapped over my mouth and lifted me off my feet. Instinctively I kicked out, screaming hard into the gag as my body flailed wildly.

Whoever held me seemed to know what they were doing. They took no time in slamming me hard against a tree, where I was pinned and helpless against the two solid bodies.

" _I know what you are_!" A sinister guttural voice hissed in my ear. From the sound of it I guessed my attacker was female. " _I've watched you for weeks_!"

My heart leapt in my throat and I felt pure blind panic clog all my senses as I worked to free myself from this maniac.

" _Able to control the dead, can you?"_ She hissed. " _Well you'll be coming with me now. The Wolves will make good use of you, little witch_!"

Oh god! OH GOD!

I couldn't think of anything other than to fight. My hand reached for it before my thoughts did. Metal sang, my arm tore forward, and the one behind me screamed loud as the edge of a blade slashed through her gut. Her iron grip on me left and I slipped to the ground in a slosh of water, blinking through the rain as I turned around.

Now that I had a better look at her, I surveyed this mad woman. She had tangled dirty hair the color of rust. She was thin and her face was gaunt and even in the downpour I could see that it was caked with dirt and other filth. Her hands grasped the place I had stuck her and she growled low as she looked at the blood.

"You little bitch!" She hissed, reaching towards me with one hand while the other held her bleeding side.

Without thought I slashed the knife again, cutting her in the space between her forefinger and thumb. She roared again trying to dive towards me, but I rolled. My boots slipped on mud as I scrambled to my feet and sprinted away, running blind.

"Get back here!" The woman screamed, sprinting after me.

My legs hammered the ground while my heart hammered in my chest. The woman's legs were much longer than mine and I knew she would have outran me if I hadn't had the good sense to maim her first.

In my panic to keep ahead of her I didn't realize I was running away from Alexandria until something stepped in my path and I collided with another solid body. Hands pinned my arms to their sides and wrestled my knife away from me.

"NO!" I screamed, feeling my weapon being yanked from my hand.

I heard other voices and watched more people step out from behind trees. They carried knives and spears and looked like wild men as they moved in.

Stupid me! I should have known that wolves hunted in packs!

"You got her?" One asked.

"I got her! Little brat's putting up a big fight, though."

"Get control on her. We can't let—,"

He was interrupted just then as my piercing scream cut through all sound and I doubled my efforts to work out of the grip ensnaring me.

"Shut up! You're going to—,"

He trailed off as a walker ambled up the path, attracted by the activity, just as I intended. More were coming up the path behind it and lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the herd as it moved forward.

"Fuck!" Someone hissed. "Brat's called in the reinforcements!"

With them distracted, my hand dipped into my boot and pulled out my second knife concealed inside. It dug into the thigh of the man behind me and he yelled out as his grip on me loosened and I pulled away, sprinting once again. I dove into the herd, putting space between me and the wolves in the safety of the flesh eaters.

There were various yells and cries of fear as I was lost within and the herd advanced on my assailants. I could hear the clang of the weapons as they fought through the bodies but the thickness of the crowd kept me safe from their pursuit again.

I ran and ran, unable to tell where I was headed anymore, but knowing that I needed to put as much distance between me and the hunters as I could. The rain beat on me, and splashed in my face, making visibility impossible as I kept running. The boom of thunder clapped above and the trees groaned in a wordless threat.

Just then I heard snaps and something cracked loudly. I turned and watched as a massive black shadow dove towards me. I felt arms and nails rake my skin as I screamed, throwing me to the ground where I was pinned and unable to move.

...And then there was nothing.

* * *

My own hacking coughs woke me up, heaving through a throat on fire. There was water on my face and my whole body shivered with a freezing cold. I coughed again, feeling mud and grass and rocks on my back as something like branches and leaves scratched my face. My eyes fluttered opened, staring up at dying leaves and the blue sky seeping through them. I could feel a near crushing weight pinning me where I lied, unmoving and constricting. Upon further inspection I realized it was a fallen tree, the same that I had mistaken for a body attacking me the night before.

I coughed more, trying to get air into my burning lungs. My mouth was dry and I felt dehydrated. The moment I was free I would need to find water. I struggled in the branchy cage, worming my arms free to grip at the bough pinned on my chest and pushed hard. There was something gripping me around my ankle, making it difficult in working myself free. Taking a moment to regain my energy I breathed carefully before bracing once more and forcing my body out. I felt my ankle twist and a sharp pain lit under the skin, where I knew something had moved in a way it shouldn't have.

I yelped sharply, but stifled any other sounds of pain as my mind went to the events of the night before, fearing my hunters may have been lurking around the nearest bush.

Wincing, I used the majority of my strength to work onto my belly and crawled the rest of the way out of the tree. My attention was focused more on my pained ankle and the need to get free of these branches as fast as possible was so much, that I failed to see the twig that cut me right along the forehead and another that poked me in the eye.

I whimpered, stopping momentarily to palm the cut and wipe away the blood and tears the best I could before resuming my first mission. The end of the tunnel was in sight and I crawled through dirt, mud, leaves, and braches before finally, finally breaking through to freedom.

I tumbled through the opening, coughing and whimpering more as I took in the results of the storm from last night. The size of the tree that I had been trapped under made me shiver involuntary while I gawked by how close to death I had come. There was no doubt that I had been born under some _real_ lucky stars.

Thankfully you don't feel pain when you are dead and the wounds all over my body was proof enough of that I was still very much alive and I was grateful for every bruise, scratch, gash, and ache in my whole body.

Once again, I marveled on the shear madness of it.

I should have been dead. I _actually_ should have been dead.

But I was I was alive; alive to tell this tale so long as I acted quickly.

My eyes scanned the area, searching for something I could use to help me. Then I saw my savior: wild catnip.

Tearing off a large handful I balled it up and held it against my forehead. It soothed instantly and after patting it down a bit more the bleeding began to slow. I looked in my pockets and found my handkerchief. Folding it in a triangle, I padded it with some of the herb and wrapped it around my scalp.

Then my attention turned to my ankle. It smarted with every move I made. Best case scenario, it was only sprained; worse case it was broken, but I was fairly sure it wasn't the latter. Still, I would need to keep as much weight off of it as I could. I scavenged a bit around and hacked off a strong enough branch that would serve as my crutch for me to amble back home.

But that might have been a slight problem.

I couldn't know how to get home if I didn't even know where I was. During the night, I had been so focused on escaping my attackers that I hadn't paid any mind to where I was going and now… this whole part of the forest looked entirely unfamiliar to me.

With dread it dawned on me that I was lost.

"Okay, calm down," I told myself, before I was about to panic. "If you can make it to a road it will lead you back to the safe zone and you can find home back that way. Easy-peezy."

I started walking, guided a bit by a passing herd. Sure walkers were dumb but they seemed to have a set of strange instincts that almost felt like it led them to people, a kind of mental compass or sixth sense, in a way. Plus there was the added safety with being in their crowd that made it so I didn't have to worry so much about other people approaching, like the Wolves.

Of course the herd looked to get away as soon as they caught sight of me, but I just followed them and hoped they would lead me towards signs of civilization.

The sky eventually rumbled above and I knew another storm was coming. Moments later the rain came.

I was starving and thirsty and while I bent my head up to take in the water offered to me, it did little to silence the need for something solid in my belly. There was plenty of pine in the walkers' path and I tore away the outer bark of a tree and carved out a good sized chunk, chewing it hungrily. I also found some wild onion and a few shaggy mane mushrooms.

It would have been nice to cook them with meat, but I couldn't plan for things nor time I didn't have. I was pressed to get home as soon as possible and cooking something was going to take more time than I wanted to waste.

"Dad is going to kill me," I muttered chewing up the onion. I tried not to imagine the look of worry and outrage he was bound to hold when I arrived home, I just wanted to get back as soon as possible to get that episode over with before he sent a search party out for me.

Eventually I split away from the herd when I spotted a road and followed that in the direction I predicted would take me back home. The rain continued to beat and I shivered, wanting out of the downpour. I had already been freezing and wet when I woke and my wool cloak did little to warm me when it was so wet and heavy. I tried jogging, thinking that I could maybe find a car and use that to take shelter in until the rain had gone. Instead I found a bridge, which was probably the best roof I was going to find.

There was immediate relief in me when I dove under it. I wrung out my clothes and leaned against the wall, sliding down and resting my bad leg. Just then scuffling sounded behind me and I leapt back up, brandishing my crutch, instantly prepared for a fight.

My thoughts had jumped to the Wolves, thinking they had followed me again and when I saw the state of the strangers I first assumed they really were those animals; that or I believed they were walkers since they resembled corpses more than anything else. But their movement suggested otherwise and when I got a better look at them, I saw three frightened dirty children huddled together, staring back at me with wide terror-filled eyes.

They were quite possibly the dirtiest, most ragged, most frightened things I had ever seen. Blood coated them from head to foot and I deduced that it may have been from walkers. It was a trick people used in case they ever got cornered or needed to escape through a herd. Though the people I knew rarely resorted to methods like that, keeping in mind that these things could very well carry diseases and other harmful pathogens that just may end up killing them later rather than sooner. And even when they did, it was wiser to use a poncho made from old blankets or sheets rather that painting the blood directly on the skin. Kids like these though, may not have considered something like that.

I addressed them with caution, just in case they acted as feral as they looked.

"Hey…" I said, unable to think of anything smarter than that. They looked skinny and half starved. I still had some onion on me and more of the mushrooms.

"Are… are you hungry?" I tried offering the greens to them. Just to show I was in their confidence and wasn't planning on poisoning them, I nibbled a bit off of one of the stalks to show that it was alright. They didn't come any closer, so I inched carefully towards them, leaving the food in the center between us all. Then I scooted back to my place, waiting for them to move. The older one seemed wary, but maybe her need for food won out over her fear, because she untangled from the other two and approached the offering with caution. Her eyes never left me though, mindful that it could have been a trick and unwilling to trust strangers even if I myself was a child.

Smart girl.

She picked up the mushroom I had nibbled off of and took a bite of it. A moment went by while she waited, maybe for some trick she predicted I was playing long enough for a poison to take effect. When nothing happened she picked up the rest and brought it back to her companions.

I watched them divide the miniscule bit between them equally and gobble it all down in moments before I turned back into the rain. A few minutes later I returned with more wild onions, pine and as an added bonus I was able to find some gooseberries as well. I spread it all out before them, tasting a bit of everything to let them know it was all safe.

Feeling a bit more trusting they didn't wait for me to back away but scooted closer to inspect the finds. Once they started eating I was able to get a better look at them. Even as dirty as they all were I could see the resemblance they all had with one another and concluded that they must have been siblings.

The oldest was a girl I estimated to be about my age. The second was another girl that was maybe five and when I viewed her a bit closer my heart clenched at the sight of a twisted lip she tried to hide behind the curtain of her jaw-length hair. My pity didn't end there however, when I caught sight of the third, I had to real back tears. The last child was a little boy that couldn't have been a year older than two and struggled to eat with his left hand as I saw his right was missing, hidden by his sleeve as the girl hid her face in her hair.

What on earth had they been, through?

I attempted to talk to them to see if they understood, but they didn't respond other than to watch me carefully, like wild animals observing a man with a weapon.

Even when I spoke clearly, they made no indication to suggest they grasped my words. Perhaps then they didn't know English.

I understood that people in different parts of the world spoke different languages, but there were none here that I knew of, and to travel so far from your own land and mother tongue under the conditions of the world and countless threats presented was near impossible. And for three children on their own…

Something moved behind us just then and I saw a walker stumble down the hill to approach the bridge. We all turned to it but when I looked back they were already running away. Yet just as they dodged out the opposite end, two more walkers stepped in their way, gnashing their teeth and ready to bite into all three.

I dove forward, ignoring the discomfort in my ankle as I came to their aid, swinging my stick at the monsters and putting myself between them and the children.

The walker nearest stopped in his pursuit and stared its empty eyes at me before it moved away. Its companions followed it and once more there was silence under the bridge. I could feel the eyes of the children on my back and I looked over at them to see all their mouths hanging open. Then our attentions turned once more towards movement and we watched as more and more walkers stumbled across the path. The children behind me tensed some more, but I was sure to keep myself always in the line of sight with the walkers, discouraging their hunger immediately.

There must have been a hundred in that single herd as they all ambled passed, each taking only a single look under the bridge towards me before deciding against entering and going on their way.

When there was silence at last the children looked up at me as if looking on an alien space craft. There were mixed emotions of amazement and fear on their faces and they moved a bit closer, eased by my strange power.

The rain didn't let up at all through the rest of the day, only grew harder, cascading down the bridge in great harsh waterfalls. Thunder clapped loud, shaking the foundation of our makeshift shelter. I was able to build us a small fire out of wood that was already under the bridge and we huddled around it as the day grew dark again. A few times a walker or two poked their heads under the bridge, attracted by the light of the fire before diving back into the rain once they caught sight of me.

It was sometime after what I thought was sunset when the small trickling stream the bridge crossed over began to flood dangerously and we all had to move before being swept away by the rising current. The children carried only one bag with them; an old duffel worn with holes and questionable stains.

We all trudged through the storm, bundling ourselves up the best we could as we searched for a new shelter. Finally we came across a set of cars. Two of them had walkers in them and I didn't feel like opening them just to spend the night in the death-smelling compartments they were rotting in. Thankfully the third one was unoccupied and we were all able to pile inside to wait out the storm.

I got comfortable in the front of the old minivan while the three others folded down the seats in the back and curled up with the single blanket they carried in their duffel. We ate more from the berries and greens I had gathered but it wasn't a whole lot in retrospect, and in only a few bites it was all gone. We settled in as it grew darker and darker. Every now and then the children would tense as they heard the sounds of the occasional passing walker, but they'd duck under their blanket and remain quiet as we waited for them to pass.

I kept watch for a while, but it seemed obvious that we weren't bound to find any travelers on the road in this weather, so I settled in and drifted for a while. I was so exhausted that my dreams were empty and held only the darkness behind my lids.

Sometime in the night, though, I was roused by sobbing. I looked over and saw the little girl crying where she lay. It was quiet though, like she didn't want to wake the other two. I shifted in my seat to turn towards her, reaching a hand out and rubbing her back gently.

She turned cautiously around to face me, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"It's okay," I said gently. "It was just a nightmare."

She sniffed and reached for their bag, digging out a rusted music box with a pair of mice painted on the top of the lid. She wound it up and a lullaby filled the space in the small vehicle compartment.

I recognized the tune and hummed a bit of it with the hopes that maybe it would sooth her better.

"If I had words to make a day for you  
I'd sing you a morning golden and new

I would make this day last for all times  
Give you a night deep in moonshine"

The song was short but the girl listened intently all the same. She let me finish my words before singing out her version in an entirely different language. Even with her twisted lip, her voice was like nothing I'd ever heard. It was clear and rich and sweet. It was like the voice of an angel.

I snag out once more, but felt a little self conscious about my own voice now, mindful that there were notes that sounded shaky and flat. But she didn't seem to mind and she finished in that same language as before. When the music box wound to an end there was nothing but the rain to fill the silence and the frequent thunder rumbling above.

I looked down at her, realizing just then that I never properly introduced myself to them. It was apparent that they didn't understand English so I pointed to my chest and said only one word.

"Judith."

She looked at me, her head tilting in bewilderment.

"Judith," I repeated pointing more firmly towards my chest.

She was quiet for a moment but then seemed to understand what I was trying to say. She pointed to her own chest and announced, "Tanti," back to me.

"Tanti," I repeated, "That's pretty."

Then she pointed to her brother and sister. "Luis. Mari."

"Tanti, Luis, and Mari." I repeated back, showing her I understood.

She smiled her marred smile and pointed back towards me in understanding, "Judith."

"Yep," I announced looking whimsically back at her. "That's me. Judith."

She settled back down, her eyes resting on me before they fluttered closed and she was asleep once more, lulled by the rain and the storm outside.

* * *

 **Author's notes: the first song is the Lullaby from the last episode of Penny Dreadful, sung in the credits. Tanti's lullaby is If I had Words, inspired from the movie Babe, although the original was sung by Scott Fitzgerald and Yvonne Keeley back in I think the seventies.**

 **I wanted to work some more Bianca in here since she's been mentioned so little for someone who will be important later as the story develops.**

 **Tanti, Mari, and Luis are all OCs created by me... well sort of. We'll get more into that next chapter.**

 **If I get a few more reviews this time around I'll post another chapter a bit earlier. I love every single comment you guys send me and enjoy hearing your thoughts. Sometimes though, it can be a bit discouraging when you work on a project for an extended period of time, spend so much time editing and revising it to make sure it all makes sense, and then there ends up being so little feedback on it. I know that's no one's fault and it should be enough to write something simply because I want to write what I enjoy and just because it gets _me_ excited doesn't mean it'll be mutual for others. **

**Still, if you I can throw me a comment it makes everything that much more encouraging. I luv ya all and hope you guys liked the new chapter.**


	17. Creatures of Joy and Woe

**Chapter 17  
Creatures of Joy and Woe  
**

 _Joy and Woe are woven fine,_  
 _A clothing for the soul divine,_  
 _Under every grief and pine,_  
 _Runs a joy with silken twine,_  
 _It is right it should be so,_  
 _We were made for joy and woe,_  
 _And when this we rightly know,_  
 _Through the world we safely go._

 _~by William Blake, December 2005_

* * *

When the rain had stopped the next morning the road was a mess of fallen branches and trees littering everywhere. One or two walkers lined the area, pinned by debris and reaching out for some way to work free and keep on wondering in search of living meat like they hungered for.

It wasn't hard to convince the three children to come with me. They seemed to understand that the dead weren't going to come near me and as such it was safest at my side verses braving the wilds on their own. I think it may have also worked by being a child myself and they were able to trust someone near their ages easier than they were an adult. It was just safest that way.

In their shoes, I would probably think the same.

Of course, they didn't wear shoes or even proper coats and when I observed their feet I noticed cuts, dirt and blisters marring them from their toes to their ankles. Before continuing, I kicked off my own boots and put them on Mari. For Tanti, I took off my cloak and wrapped it around her, keeping her warm in the damp morning air. For our footwear, I tore up part of the upholstery from the car seats and wrapped them over her feet and my own. That at least provided some form of cushioning while we walked. I offered to carry their bag for them as well, but they wouldn't part from it. The little they had in all the world was in that bag and I didn't blame them for wanting to keep it with them.

I hobbled along the road on my crutch with them in tow walking close to my side. Mari carried their little brother and after a time Tanti reached out to hold my hand as we walked. It was nice and I didn't shrug her off but looked down and smiled to her.

In time we reached a road I recognized.

"Only three more miles to go." I announced to my traveling companions. We were already tired and had to stop between every half-mile for breaks before the walls of Alexandria came into view. I could see someone on the lookout just as they spotted me and yelled out to open the gate.

I picked up the pace and when the screen and bars began to slide back revealing my father sprinting towards me, I released my grip on my crutch and the girl's hand to limp rapidly towards him.

The moment he reached me all the weight on my bad leg left as I was lifted into his arms. I thought I would be crushed by how hard he held me, and I was unashamed to say that if that was how I was going to die, caringly crushed by someone I loved, that was alright with me; until I realized I really needed air to appreciate it.

"Dad… Dad…" I wheezed, patting him on the shoulder. "You're crushing me."

He squeezed me once more before loosening his grip enough to look me over.

"Are you alright? Are you okay?"

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine. Is… is Negan gone?" I asked hesitantly my mind flitting back to the blood and the guts and the look of horror on Spencer's face while he died and then the grin on Negan's while he watched.

Relief flooded my senses when my dad nodded. "Yes."

I sighed and then I noticed my companions off to the side. "I made some new friends." I told him. He put me down and I leaned against him as I introduced them. They seemed to huddle up though, wary of this intimidating newcomer. They only eased after they had seen the heartfelt exchange between us. So I assumed they predicted our relationship and could figure out this wasn't someone they needed to be afraid of.

"This is Tanti, Mari, and Luis." I announced.

Dad attempted a smile for them and I led them in by the hand.

The children were well received by the town. Kids were so rare to find these days, there were only about fourteen in the whole town and new young faces were greatly welcomed.

First we went to the infirmary where Olivia and Heath looked over our injuries. I really did have a sprain which they wrapped in a cast. I was ordered to stay off my feet for a few weeks, something I was not looking forward to but knew it was for my own good either way. Thankfully I wouldn't need stitches for the cut above my eye, and I was commended for the insight to apply the catnip on it as they dressed it with proper bandages now.

Afterwards the other children were looked over. During the examination I stood by to show them that nothing bad was about to happen to them. I stayed within sight and that seemed to ease their anxiety, so long as they could stay to watch after their siblings.

They were deeply malnourished and had several infections on their feet, where blisters and welts had developed. The boy's hand seemed to have been clumsily chopped off, probably due to a walker bite some time ago. It looked even worse than I imagined now that it was unwrapped—like a branch that had been caught in a wood chipper.

Heath suggested getting him to Hilltop, where the surgeon was so they could perform an operation to make it look a little less… butchered. For the moment they could only do their best.

After a while we decided it might have been easier if they were bathed first and I volunteered to look after them while they did so. After all, I myself was in need of a good wash and chose to lead them to my house to get that squared away. Michonne helped as we cautiously went about it. At first I offered to let them handle it on their own, but Tanti didn't want me to leave and took my hand desperately as an indication to make me stay.

I had never seen a sorrier sight than those children without their clothes. They were dirty, grimy, and so thin they were more bone than anything else. Their whole bodies were covered with welts and scars, revealing that they had been severely beaten by their previous guardians. Their situation, whatever it had been, must have been bad enough that they would rather risk death from exposure or walkers than stay in whatever conditions they lived in before.

I wanted to cry at the sight of it all, but I reeled it in till they were finished.

Afterwards when they were cleaned, dressed, and their wounds had been handled properly we all sat down at the dining table and were given some light broth and bread to eat. I could certainly handle a bit more, but the others weren't able to stomach anything stronger than that.

Michonne told me that eating would be hard for them until they were able to work up their appetites again and it was going to be some time before they regained their strength for it. Their road to recovery was expected to be very long and hard.

"We'll need to figure out a place for them to stay." Dad told me.

"They can have my room." I offered immediately. "I'll sleep on the couch."

He traded a look with Michonne.

"It… could work for a few days," She suggested, "just until we find something more permanent for them."

He paused, but eventually nodded. "Alright. If you want to get them set up, that would be fine."

I led them up to my room once they were done eating. The moment they were all tucked in on the soft mattress they were out, curled up close and snoring lightly.

With them sleeping, I was at last able to take care of my own needs. It always amazed me what a hot shower and some clean clothes can do for someone after being through a traumatic and exhausting experience. I did feel much better and later when I set my bed up downstairs my dad came down to talk to me.

This was the moment I had been anticipating. Here was where he was bound to lecture and shout at me for running off and making him worry.

I didn't look at his face while I braced for it, but then he surprised me.

His hand came to rest on my shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"I'm proud of you." He said from out of nowhere.

Stunned by this odd development, my head shot back to gaze at him.

"You—you're proud of me?" I repeated unable to believe this development. "But I thought for sure you were going to be furious and ground me again."

Dad just smiled.

"I thought so, too." He admitted. "You were gone for two whole days and when I didn't find you at the island I was scared shitless that I was going to find you dead… or worse. Then those two storms blew in and it took Carl, Michonne, and Aaron together to keep me from running straight into all of it to find you. You scared me to death, Judith."

My head bowed in shame at the sound of his anguished tone. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I swear I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, but if you hadn't gotten lost you would never have found those kids and they would either still be wondering around on their own or they'd be dead. Lesser people might've even left them to die, but you led them back here and for that they're alive because of it."

"I just… did what was right."

"You did, and I'm proud of you for that." Then he took a big breath of air as he mentally prepared himself for the next thing he said, "Which is why… I've decided to let you apprentice with Aaron and me."

My mouth dropped as I looked back at him, voice squeaking in disbelief as if certain I had misheard him "Whaaaaaaaat!"

Dad went on, smiling a bit by my tone and expression. "I think it's time you started learning a trade and I think this is your calling. Summer break is coming in a few weeks, which gives you plenty of time for that ankle to heal. By then, you should be able to start work."

I couldn't find the words. I wasn't even sure if this was really happening. The blanket I had been spreading over the couch dropped from my hands as my crutch and one good leg moved me around the room in a hurried pace.

"This is—is this really happening? Are you serious? Am I really doing this? Ohmygosh! I'm… I don't have words! This is happening!" Then I looked back at him, stunned and hopeful. "Are you serious? Are you seriously serious?"

His hands clasped mine and it was then I felt the true gentleness of his strength in them. "I am. I see now I can't stop you from going out there. I could try, but that'd probably be useless and not very productive. Michonne and I talked more about it and I think this is the best way." He put his hands on my shoulders and stared straight into my eyes. "You're a provider and a warrior, Judith Grimes, and you chose to be those things without anyone telling you to, and I know you will always put your people first. If you keep following this path, someday you will even become a great leader and when that day comes I want to be there to see it."

There were no words I could think of to adequately describe the joy in me. A lump formed in my throat and tears sparkled in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around him and there seemed to be only one thing I could say to tell him what this meant to me.

"Daddy…"

* * *

Over the next few weeks the same time it took for my ankle to heal I used that time to get to know the new additions of our community.

I started calling them the Waifs and it seemed like the nickname took pretty well with everyone. Their recovery was slow going as they began to build up the fat and muscle they had lost during their time of abuse from their former keepers and travels through the wilds. I encouraged them as often as I could and in time it was soon discovered that the three grew an almost inseparable interest in me.

Mari was the prettiest and when she started gaining more weight and the life began to return to her cheeks and skin she seemed in a way, almost dazzling to me. Clothed in one of my old dresses with a ribbon adorning her auburn hair she looked like an actual princess and at times it was hard to take my eyes off her.

Tanti was by far the sweetest little kid I had ever met, far sweeter than many of the kids around town, that was for sure. I didn't even mind her lip because once she grew on me, I didn't see it. Just as she had demonstrated back in the car, her voice was one of the sweetest I had ever heard from a living person. It had a strange ring to it that sounded in a way erutan. When she sang for the first time in the church with the echo of the rafters to resonate her voice, it brought tears to my eyes and anyone else who heard it.

Luis was the most docile of the three. Despite his missing hand, he was very eager to be picked up by anyone who would hold him. In time I found it was rather soothing to cradle him close to feel his steady breathing and fluttering heart. As curious as he was about this strange new town and residents, he remained rather reluctant to venture too far from any arms that ensured safety and protection.

He was such a timid little thing.

Despite being unable to speak English they were easy to get along with and I became a key participant in their journey through recovery and speaking. Often when there wasn't a whole lot to do around town, we would walk the length of the boundaries and I would point to random things, sounding out their English translation while they repeated it back to me.

It turned out though, that the language they were speaking was in fact Spanish and though there were several people around town that had taken classes a long, long time ago it was only Aaron and Eric, who were both fluent speakers.

During the Waifs first few days in town, the two men attempted to interpret for them while also explaining the ways of the town for the children. Having someone that could understand them made things infinitely better, especially as the adults began to discuss plans ensuring their welfare.

As much help as I offered in their journey towards recovery, it was nothing compared to what Sheriff and the other puppies did for them. All the animals served incredibly in that regards, but the dogs were the ones that helped the most.

They played with Sheriff so often, teasing and rolling around with him in the grass of our lawn. When they sat still, he sprawled next to them as they stroked back his fur. He even slept with them, curled up in a big cozy pile on the wool mattress in my room. They loved him so much that I didn't have the heart to separate them when it came time to get them settled in a permanent family.

In the end, it was Aaron and Eric that chose to take them. The two had wanted children even before the world collapsed on itself, but they had rather accepted the unlikelihood of such a thing ever happening for them now. Yet I suppose, in a way, it seemed like fate to them and when everyone started discussing the welfare for the three, they couldn't ignore the signs.

I was told the transition would be difficult. There would be large after effects of emotional trauma and scarring that would plague the children for years to come. It still wasn't entirely clear what all they had suffered and making them feel as safe as possible was very important.

There was a certain responsibility I felt for the three and I wasted no time in offering my own assistance to aid in their recovery.

"I'll be right down the street." I told Aaron and Eric as we got the children settled. "Anything you need; if they get scared in the middle of the night or one of them has a fit or a panic attack I'm right there and they'll see me every day so that should help. And Sheriff will be with them so… they'll be alright… I'm sure they will." It was hard reeling back the water but I swallowed through the lump in my throat and sniffed loudly hoping it would stop the tears before they fell.

Eric smiled, putting a gentle hand on my shoulder as he held the little boy in his arms. "Thank you, Judith."

I smiled back and turned my attention to Sheriff who pranced in place as he gazed at the circle of people surrounding him. I knelt to his level and the tone in my voice made him pause for a moment as he studied me with his wide brown eyes. Even though I was only a few doors down, I knew the relationship I had with this energetic mutt wasn't going to remain the same. They needed him more and I kept that in my heart as I took his little paw and squeezed it gently.

"I love you my brave boy."

He whined once and gave a small bark as I gave him a final pat goodbye before getting back to my feet.

I looked at them. The three children, the excited puppy, and the two new parents and for just a moment they all looked like the picture of a happy family. Something inside grew at the sight of it; something that I didn't have a name for, but it swelled in me, larger and bigger than my whole body. It wasn't heavy enough to crush me, but it was too big to really hold inside. Despite scars and strife and woe, I felt that this may work.

Oh god I prayed it would work.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: In honor of Pride Month this chapter is dedicated to the LGBTQIA community. For couples struggling to start their own families I've given Aaron and Eric kids as proof that even after the end of the world life goes on and people find ways to keep living.**

 **From the words of Amelia Shepherd (Grey's Anatomy), always remember: Life Will Out.**

 **On a more interesting note, I have this idea that Mari is the baby from the family that Daryl and Meryl rescued in season 3. It'll probably never come up in the story but I thought it might be interesting to share.**


	18. Monster We All Are

**Chapter 18  
Monsters We All Are**  
"Judy! It's been such a long time, now hasn't it?" Negan said strolling up to where I was.

"Never seems all that long to _me_." I grumbled leaning on my crutch.

"Oh man." He announced, noticing my leg. "What happened to you?"

"A tree climbed on me."

He burst into laughter. "That so? Well why don't we walk a bit and you can tell me that story?"

I bowed my head in defeat. Of course he would want to walk. "I don't… it's hard." I settled on. Honestly it wasn't wholly because it was difficult, but mostly because I didn't want to venture too close to Mari, Tanti, and Luis and have them catch his attention. I didn't want his focus on them ever if I could help it. In a way, I guess I felt they were my responsibility. I brought them to the town, so it was my job to watch out for them, and the last thing I needed was for this monster to find any interest in my charges.

He eyed my bad leg in thought. "Oh I guess it would be wouldn't it. Alright, we can park it at your place while we chat for a bit. We can catch up since we didn't have much of an opportunity for it last time."

"Last time…" I repeated, my mind going to the incident that was "last time". In a brief moment of terror I was back in the yard, gazing at the spilled intestines, the blood, the open wound, Spencer, and Negan's smiling face. My leg and crutches stopped dead. "I… I…"

Negan looked at me like he was sincerely confused. "Something wrong, sweetheart?"

"You should know." I snapped, refusing to look him in the eye. "…You killed him."

His tone darkened, and I could tell his smile was gone. "You should be thanking me. That man was plotting to kill your own dad and take his place as leader. I did your family a favor. He wanted _me_ to kill Rick because he didn't have the stones to do it himself; instead I killed _him_. Anyone who's too weak to kill someone on their own, but needs to call in the man to do his dirty work, isn't worth shit to me. What do you say about that, Judith?"

I couldn't say anything to that, but I knew he wanted something from me, I just didn't know what that was.

He sighed as if this whole conversation wore him out. "Look, honey, you're still a kid, so I can't expect you to really get it, but I sort of hoped you would try. You surprise me like that, and that's what I like about you, plus you're already a fucking lil' kick-ass and I personally can't wait to see what you turn into. But you see the world in terms of black and white."

"Maybe that's how the world is." I shot back.

He laughed and steered me to our porch where he leaned comfortably back on one of the woven chairs.

"When you get older, you'll be eating those words. Take your father for example. You think he got where he is because he did the right thing all the time?"

I didn't sit down but faced Negan on my feet, difficult though it was. "He is where he is because he was ambushed in the forest and a monster hacked up our friends and now we have to provide for that bottomless pit because he's too _stupid_ to provide for himself and too _lazy_ to even try."

I watched his face widened in pure shock as if I had slapped him, but he was over it in an instant as he fired back darkly. "Get your fucking facts right, brat. Your people killed _my_ people first. We weren't the ones to start this."

"That's not how I heard it." I announced putting a finger to my chin in mock thought. "I believe _your_ people tried to rob _our_ people, leave them with nothing on the side of the road, and kill one of them to send a twisted sort of message." I countered knowingly. "Now I'm no ambassador and I'm sure I know about as much as the next little kid about these sorts of things, but if you want my opinion, that didn't seem like a very diplomatic move on your part. That's how I believe it went down at least. I mean I've heard different accounts but it adds up rather well when comparing your history and methods of negotiation." As limited as our library was I found that the subject of government was rather engrossing and we had a few textbooks that explained the process rather well and I'd read anything I could get my hands on. It certainly had it' perks when I was allowed to school this asshole on basic diplomacy.

"So in our defense, killing your people was _in_ self defense and it was purely your idea to take it as far as it's gotten. And if you lost more people than you had wanted you should have extended an olive branch by suggesting we could work together rather than demand we cough up half our supplies with no compensation for it."

His mouth twitched by that. "It's so impressive how you mix the truth up. I believe it was your people who attacked one of my outposts and killed every single fucking one of my people there."

"Maybe you and your wild dogs should only pick on people their own size."

"Maybe your people shouldn't pick fights they can't win."

"Well maybe…" I struggled to find an appropriate retort, but my time was stretching and I had to say _something_ , "Maybe you should… shut up for once!"

That was weak and embarrassing especially when Negan laughed.

"Ooh nice try. If you had another minute and a few more brain cells you could probably figure out a decent comeback than that."

My bravado seemed to have been used up along with my wit after those words.

"You should count yourselves lucky, brat. _Your_ people killed a whole outpost of _my_ people—in their sleep no less. I could have returned the favor, instead I only made an example of two of yours."

" _Four_." I corrected with hate. "I count Spencer as one of ours and you still have my uncle Daryl, and are doing god knows what to him right now. I haven't seen him for three years so for all I know you've probably killed him by now, and I won't forget that! And furthermore, you think you're benevolent because you only killed two of us? You're not. I think you just didn't have the stones to kill _all_ the men this time."

His eyes grew wide and a shadow of something I couldn't distinguish crossed his face with those words. I knew what he was thinking. When the Saviors first introduced themselves to us I often saw the spirits of men and young boys lingering around a few of the most ruthless of them. Weeks following their frequent visits I was often met with terrible dreams of groups of men and boys being lined up and executed in front of screaming girls and women.

I had decided to consult Vanessa about these night terrors and she had offered her wisdom, explaining that such premonitions may have been showing me what the Saviors had done to gain subjection from other groups in the past. It may have even been predicting what was to come should we cross them in ways they wouldn't forgive.

Negan's gaze pierced me while the wheels in his head turned, probably wondering if it was pure coincidence that I would say something like that.

"What makes you think I would ever stoop to killing so many?" He asked carefully.

My eyes narrowed in disgust and my tone darkened. "It doesn't seem all that out of character for you. I feel like that would be a very liberal way to gain subservience within a community. Although it would cause some… complications. The remaining community may all just decide to leave without warning or fight. I bet that would really put a damper on your _dependency_ , now wouldn't it?"

The look Negan gave me was like a ghost had slapped him in the face.

"What do you know?" He asked suspiciously.

"Know? Know about what?" I responded, shrugging my shoulders innocently. "I'm just talking hypotheticals here."

His gaze narrowed and by the look in his eye I could tell he didn't buy that for one minute. I waited for him to say something else, press for more information about how I would be privy to something like that, where I may have gotten that information and if I knew where the remaining survivors of such a group was. But he did none of those.

Instead, his eyes turned again to my injury. "How bout we change the subject? Tell me about your leg? You told me a tree climbed on you?"

"Yeah… more or less."

"Why don't you elaborate?"

"It's not that interesting." I deadpanned.

"Bullshit, I'll bet it's plenty interesting if it managed to scathe you."

"It'd bore you. No one died or was gravely mutilated so you probably wouldn't be all too fascinated." That was a lie, but I wasn't about to talk to Negan about the ambush of Wolves I narrowly escaped from.

"If you'd rather we keep talking about your friends being brained in, just say the word. We could talk about the way your father cried or the way everyone screamed. Maybe we could do a reenactment."

That fury in me was stoked by those words. I wanted him worse than dead. I wanted to curse this man with every hex and jinx I knew of. I squashed those thoughts, though. It never made a difference.

 _Cast a curse and you curse two; You curse your victim and you curse you!_

I said the rhyme in my head over and over again like a mantra, cooling that burn inside me the best I could manage.

"A tree just… fell on me."

"A tree fell on you?" He sounded confused and concerned, rather than amused as I expected him to be. It almost seemed convincing but he was faking it, obviously.

"I got caught in the storm a few weeks back. It's no big deal."

"A fucking tree fell on you? How big was the thing? You're still alive so it couldn't have possibly been that big."

"No it wasn't." I said hastily.

"Bullshit it wasn't. That thing was massive then."

"How—why do you think that?" I had tried to amend the first part, but the damage was already done and confirmed with that first word.

"I can always tell when you're lying or avoiding the truth. And you didn't really help yourself by saying "how" first."

I couldn't help but glance towards Dad. _He_ didn't even know how I messed up my leg. He didn't know I spent that whole night under a tree. He still didn't even know I was ambushed. And I knew I couldn't tell him because if he found out, he'd go nuts and ground me again or renounce his decision to let me train under Aaron and I wasn't going to jeopardize that by telling the truth now.

Negan looked deeply impressed. "Holy fuck! A massive tree fell on you and you crawled away with nothing but a sprained ankle? Shit, kid, you are lucky. So fucking lucky!"

I turned on him hissing between my clenched teeth when his voice grew louder than I wanted. "I don't want it broadcasted!"

His brow lowered in confusion before a quick glance towards my dad seemed to ignite the light bulb in his brain.

"Oh… I get it, now."

His knowing, plotting tone set me off. "No you don't! You don't get it! I didn't want to talk about it because it's not important! It's not relevant. How I am injured has nothing to do with the here and now. My ankle is messed up and that's all you need to know. It doesn't matter how, it just is. I'm not letting you of all people mess up what I've worked so hard for by escalating this stupid situation with pointless details."

It wasn't all true. It just made me mad that he had gotten it out of me before I had even told my dad. I hadn't wanted to; in fact I kept putting it off for so long. Dad worried continuously about me. I was afraid of telling him because I wasn't sure how he would take it. He already had so much on his plate as it was. I didn't want him worrying over nothing. But I knew not telling him was even more dangerous.

If wolves were after me then that could have meant more was at stake than just my life. The others could have been in danger as well and precautions needed to be made. It dawned on me just then that it didn't matter if he overheard this conversation or not. I'd just have to tell him anyways.

Damn it…

"What are you working for?" Negan said bringing me out of my thoughts. "And why would this conversation mess that up? It's just small talk."

"I will not explain." I answered rebelliously.

I could feel the heat of fury that stoked inside the man with those words. He was not one to take refusal of any kind and especially not from a snotty little kid. Even with that knowledge I was testing him to the limits. I can't even really explain what was going through my head at the time I just knew I wasn't going to give him more of me.

By those words he rose to his feet and I stiffened, refusing to look up at him but bracing for his next move. I could feel he wanted to say something, probably a demand to get me to talk. Maybe he was about to hurt someone to get his way. I should have considered that before I challenged him, but it was too late to take it back so I only glared at the beam, refusing to give him the courtesy of a look in the eye and holding onto the defiance anyways.

He was furious. I knew he was, but I wouldn't back down. Sometimes it felt as though my pride was in constant battle with my commonsense and more often than not the first won out, and that could sometimes suck.

"I think I wanna see your room." Negan said from out of nowhere.

"What? Why?"

"I will not explain." He mimicked with a dark chuckle. "Lead the way, kiddo."

I gripped the armrests of my chair, glaring and uncertain what my next move should be. I had already tested him enough it just didn't feel wise to refuse him another time.

I rose from the chair and maneuvered around with my crutches ambling up the stairs with some difficulty. We reached my door and Negan leaned over to get it, stepping around me as he entered the room.

It boiled my blood worse than anything to see him inside my private space. This was not for him to observe or judge but I knew that's what he was doing as he took in the bedroom; humble and gaudy at the same time with bohemian elements. It was also slightly unkempt. I wasn't very loyal with my cleanliness and Dad had been after me for a while to tidy things up in here and clear out some things. Michonne called me a hoarder.

A pile of dirty clothes was shoved to a corner of the room nearest the wide opened closet, my green cloak left forgotten on the floor inside the door of it. With the summer months on us I wore it less often these days. Various bundles of drying plants hung upside-down from the ceiling; the ingredients for spells, blessings, teas, and remedies.

The rest of the room had been rearranged since Mari, Tanti, and Luis had arrived in Alexandria. I had given up the wool mattress that had been made for me from the sheep and gave it to them when they moved in with Aaron and Eric. Now I slept on a hammock suspended from the ceiling and reinforced with rafters to keep it from collapsing; although it was unlikely I would manage that with my tiny stature. A comforter provided extra insulation from under me when I slept while a thin sheet and quilt covered me at night. A dream catcher was suspended from the ceiling right over my pillow, an attempt to induce good dreams with very little accomplishment it seemed.

A black shelf was nailed at the head of my bed leaving a decent gap between the pole and the wall so in case it fell it wouldn't be on my head. Lining it were crystals, symbols, books and plants inducing pleasant dreams and clarity of mind as I slept. The crystals were a geode amethyst, lapis lazuli, moonstone, onyx and sodalite. The plants were potted lavender and a dried sage wand wrapped in ivy vines. The books were a dream dictionary, two poetry books, a book on teas, a dream journal I sometimes wrote in, and several picture books I had fallen in love with as a younger child.

Opposite it at the foot of my bed was another shelf, painted white. This one symbolized energy during the day. More symbols, crystals, books and plants filled the shelf. I had chosen jasper, tigers-eye, rose quartz, citrine, and a carnelian. The books on it were Healthy Habits for Tweens and Teens, Forget-Me-Not: a floral treasury, Legacy: the book of riddles, Sacred Symbols, and Charming: jewelry with a message. The plants were a potted cactus and a camellia in a vase.

The parallel shelves were meant to induce positive energy when I slept at night and when I woke again in the morning. They worked to an extent but demons had a way of slipping through even the most carefully built walls, like rats searching for gaps.

Under my "bed" was a chest of toys I never played with these days, forgotten in my pursuit for other things that I had deemed "helpful" for our people. Thinking of it as I stood with the invader in my room a pang of sadness hit me at the thought of the loss, but I brushed it aside.

I wasn't that little kid anymore. My games had changed. I no longer used toys but I still played in my own way. Maybe I'd give them to the Waifs. They'd be used again, at least.

Beside the foot of my hammock was a dresser with another shelf filled with more books and trinkets. And across it, on the opposite side by the head of my hammock was a small side table holding an unlit oil lamp with a pile of books stacked next to it on the floor. An empty teacup rested on the forgotten stack with one of Mrs. Byron's cookies half eaten beside it.

There was an old coffee table I used for a desk inches from the pile of books and a couch cushion for my chair. Various things littered the wood surface in an unorganized array of plans and projects. Over it hung another shelf filled with more books, crystals, plants, and symbols. This one also had jars of things like dried ingredients, stationary, small tools, and even animal bones.

At the top of it all were two figurines situated side by side. It was the father god (Aether) and the mother goddess (Gaia). They were both faceless and simplified. The mother was round and leaned forward to envelop an orb (Terra) which symbolized the earth. The father was tall and stood straight next to her. He was horned with antlers, just as Cernunnos was at the river Styx back at the island. These were the opposites of one another: yin and yang, love and hate, male and female, life and death.

Negan turned around, taking in the room with mixed amusement and judgment.

"What are you, kid; some kind of witch?"

"In training." I finished in answer. I stayed in the doorway leaning my back against the frame in disdain by the sight of him standing in my personal space.

"And your father supports this?" His brow lifted as if he would have never suspected we were the type of people to practice such rituals.

"He doesn't support it and he doesn't judge it. He allows me to practice my own beliefs as I wish."

His brow rose as he took the mother figurine from her place. "That so? What does your dad believe in?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I suggested through gritted teeth watching him as he fiddled with the idol.

"Being someone raised in a strict Catholic household this is a little odd for me. Is there much devil worshiping with all this?"

"No." I answered firmly. "There's no devil in the craft. At least not the stuff _I_ was taught. Sure you get your psychos every now and then; animal sacrifices, dancing naked at night, human dismemberment, but that's rare if there are others left that still worship. The craft I use dabbles in harmless spells and healing. Not devil worshiping." I went on with bitterness, recalling when I was learning about the witch hunts, the Salem Trials, and all that needless uncalled for murder. "But all forms of faith have been twisted from their original messages to suit the ones who praise them at one time or another through history. Kill for this and that god, hurt to punish this and that sinner. Countless people worshipping countless gods and everyone believes they've found the right one."

He looked amused by my choice of words. "What god do you worship?"

"I'm still deciding, but I'd like to believe in something. I know there isn't just this world. There _is_ something after death more than just wandering forever in hunger, I just don't know what it is. Those who choose to leave at last are gone for good so they don't come back to tell us what that is."

Then a pang of remorse hit me and new words I'd never thought of came pouring from my mouth. "For all the things I try to teach myself I know I know nothing. Why people in this world hate what is not them. Why they fear all they don't know. Why they hate themselves most of all for being weak, for being old or not old enough, for being everything altogether that is not godlike. Which of us can be that? Monsters all, are we not? And yet still," I cast him a furious sideways look, raw hatred boiling in the stare, " _some_ perhaps more than others. What do you say to that, Negan?"

It was the first time I had ever addressed him by name, but I felt saying it now would have held the most impact verses any other time.

For once he had no words. He stared at me with a new expression now. Perhaps he hadn't expected me to speak so eloquently. Not even I really expected to speak so eloquently. It was like the words had been spoken once before long, long ago and an old soul had chosen to speak the words again through me. I definitely could feel the presence of another faint spirit, but it was hushed and small, almost like a shadow or a draft. There, but too small to really pose any impact, and yet its impact was strong nonetheless.

* * *

Negan left same as he always did, though he cast me a look before exiting our house wearing an expression I couldn't read. Something had changed with the discussion. It felt as though he seemed skeptical of me now, a bit like tiptoeing and it was only a guess about what his impression of me was now. Whatever it was didn't matter, or that's what I tried to tell myself.

His opinion didn't matter.

I didn't care.

That was all.

I watched the trucks load up and depart for good from my window. A few minutes later I heard steps approach from behind and could tell from the gait that it was Dad to see how I was. I didn't turn to him but continued to look out the window.

"Judith?"

"Yeah."

"What did he want this time?"

"Nothing. He just wanted to see my room."

There was a worrisome pause. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"Do you need to talk?"

"No."

"Is there anything you need?"

"No."

Another pause and my father spoke again, uncertainly. "If there's something you need to talk about you know I'm here for you, right?"

"Yeah I know. If I need, right?"

"Yes… if you need."

I didn't say anything else and he took that as his cue to go, letting me be alone once again to sort through my thoughts. I still needed to tell dad the truth about the wolves, but right now all I wanted was to be left alone. There was always time for later.

But then again sometimes there wasn't.

"Wait." I called back to him. He appeared in the doorway a moment later. "Dad I need to tell you something."

"Is it about Negan?"

"No. It's about when I was out there. How I hurt myself."

I knew he'd been wondering about it since I got back, but had resisted asking me about it, preferring to let me talk when I was ready. Now that I was, I knew I had his full attention as I began.

"I was coming back from the island and it was beginning to rain. I wanted to get back fast but I saw a walker herd coming by and hid for a while. Then somebody grabbed me. It was the Wolves. They ambushed me and were going to drag me away. Then I yelled and it attracted the walkers. They distracted the Wolves while I got away, but it was storming really bad by then. I started running and I think I got turned around or something. Then a tree fell over and knocked me out. It hid me under the branches till morning and when I woke up I didn't know where I was. I decided to find a road. If I could find one I knew I could find home. Then I met the Waifs. They were afraid of me at first but after a while I was able to get them to trust me and we all came back together. And… that's what happened."

I glanced up at him and saw the worried frown on his face. I had been certain not to detail that it had been me specifically they had been looking for. I didn't feel it was entirely important. Making him aware of the coming threat was all that mattered.

"Look if I'm honest I wasn't going to tell you at all, but… the Wolves could still be out there. I know it's been years since we saw them but I don't want anyone going out there without knowing they're around so I'm telling you this now."

Dad looked very uneasy with the news.

"This isn't good." He said, turning to look out the window in thought.

"Does… does this mean I won't be able to apprentice with Aaron and you?"

He looked back at me and I could tell from his expression that he was considering it, but sighed. "I'm very concerned about it all, but if what you're saying is the truth then it looks like you handled yourself very well. There's always going to be people we'll need to be extra careful around and the worry of whether they're trustful or not is always going to be there. But you're not going to learn anything by staying behind these walls forever. We'll just need to be extra careful, alright?"

I breathed in relief. It was so great that he was still going to let me apprentice with him.

"I was scared of telling you." I admitted. "I wasn't sure what you would do. I thought it would jeopardize my shot. You're so overprotective!"

He crossed over and sat by me on my hammock, rubbing my back soothingly. "I'm more surprised that even after all you went through, you're still so eager to get back out there."

"It's just… it's part of me."

"I know and I'm starting to believe that keeping you cooped up would be worse than anything that could get you out there. I'm still concerned and it's still dangerous as hell, but… damn as much as I try you're just not going to stay put, are you?"

"No. Sorry."

"I'll just have to make plans about these threats. We'll have a meeting and see how we'll deal with them. I know it's hard but I'd really like you not to go out alone anymore, just till we've figured out a plan, understand?"

"Alright."

He turned me so that I was looking right up into his stern expression. "This time I mean it, Judith. You don't go out alone until this has been dealt with. No going to the island, no matter how much you want to, okay. Just… please… for me."

His face was so desperately imploring that I didn't have the heart to disobey him.

"Alright, I'll stay put. But figure something out fast, alright. It's been ages since I was at the island and I'm afraid things are starting to overgrow."

"Don't worry about that. Enid and I have been handling it."

"Really?"

"Sure. We can't let all those go to waste. That's a highly valuable asset."

I smiled up at him and felt a great weight lift off of me by that. I had been worrying about the island since the first day I received my cast. It was so nice to know I had the help of my dad and friend to keep that secret land from being overrun with weeds and pests.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: It's been a while since I posted but here we are. The final words Judith gives Negan is from the Cut-Wife Joanne Clayton in Penny Dreadful. There may be a small connection between her and the witch that is revealed in later chapters but I'm not going to say what just yet. For the moment you can believe that the reason Judith can recite those words now is because she has a very strong connection with spiritual forces and because of that she can recall things that would have otherwise been left forgotten.**

 **If you can, I would appreciate feedback about how you like the story so far. You've no idea how much I enjoy reading those. Thank you all for your support and keep the reviews coming.**


	19. When Mari was There

**Chapter 19  
When Mari was There  
**"Holla, Judy!"

I looked over my shoulder and spotted Tanti chasing up the road to meet me, followed shortly by Mari and Sheriff. The moment we met, the tiny girl's arms encircled me tightly. The impact nearly toppled me on my crutches and bad foot but I regained my balance and straightened.

"Hi, there Tanti. How are you this morning?"

Her face turned up from where she had it pressed in my stomach and grinned through her split lip.

"I am good!" She announced using the phrase I had taught her a few days ago. Really their English was coming along fairly well these days.

I looked over at Mari and my heart thumped loudly at the sight of her. She was wearing a new dress; bright yellow, the color of butter with a flowery design embroidered around the neck and waistline. She had macramé bracelets covering her wrists and a choker around her throat, no doubt to hide the scars.

A few weeks after their arrival in town the girl had found an interest in sewing and jewelry making. I think it was meant to take her mind off of the past; it also served as a kind of therapy for her, involving creative problem solving, repetitive movements, and beauty. Mrs. Byron had been the one to suggest it, and Mari had taken to the skill very, very well. She was taken under Mrs. Byron's proverbial wing after that and the older woman had been eager to show her whatever she knew.

The girl practiced wherever she could, on her porch, by the horses, in the orchard and gardens. Every time I saw her she was bent over a needle and thread, sewing up whatever new project her teacher had assigned her. It looked as if she was the new seamstress apprentice and really it couldn't have suited her better.

It made me so happy to see her like that, especially since the first few weeks here had… not been good.

* * *

There had been several major meltdowns and panic attacks those early days. Mari had somehow gotten hold of a knife at one point and cut one of the men fairly badly. Tanti had rushed to find me the moment she could and I had hobbled into the basement of Eric and Aaron's house to find the girl sobbing loudly and muttering in her native language. The bloodied knife was still in her hands and any time someone approached to calm her down she slashed at them furiously.

Her eyes were wide and seemed to gaze in terror at some villain that hung over her, haunting her mind and poisoning from the inside out.

I didn't know what _I_ could possibly do to get the knife away from her but Tanti had been so insistent about it that I hadn't the heart to turn her away at first. When I actually saw the state Mari was in though, all I wanted was to retreat and let Dad or Michonne handle something this chaotic. They had more experience with trauma after all. But the look on Tanti's face was so desperate that I just couldn't refuse.

So carefully, I tried to coax the older girl out of her hold on the knife.

She had babbled and had even tried to stab me, but I dived for it, rolling around with her on the floor momentarily, my hands locked on her wrists as I tried to keep her from slashing at me. She was just as vicious as I was and ended up slicing a big cut on the side of my torso and even resorted to biting at one point. Finally, I managed to wrestle the weapon out of her grip and pinned her to the floor, stomach down.

She had sobbed then and screamed, repeating the same phrase over and over again.

"¡No otra vez! Por favor, no de nuevo!"

She cried it over and over again, sobbing and weeping like she were about to be tortured. When I looked up again I saw that Tanti was also crying. Somehow the fight and the position her sister was in now had prompted her to curl securely into a ball in the oposite corner while she rocked back and forth, whimpering in the same language as her sister.

When I realized the reason for their terror I immediately scrambled off the older girl, holding my hands up and keeping them where they could be seen at all times, despite the difficulty it was to walk or stay upright with the new inflicted wound on my torso in addition to my bad leg.

The moment she was free, Mari scrambled away, rushing to the opposite end where her sister huddled and she crouched down, holding her securely while the two of them trembled.

I stared at them, trembling myself as I gripped the knife and skittered as far from them as I could. I didn't know why but I wasn't sure I could be so near the two just now. Something told me, approaching them would do none of us any good.

Thankfully Eric and Aaron came in at that moment and settled the air when Tanti got up and immediately rush at one of them. Mari was less persuasive and wouldn't be moved until all the men had left and a woman was coaxing her up. Before getting to their feet though, she had shivered away from Tara's outstretched hand and her eyes met with me as if she were waiting for my approval. It was like our tousle had never even occurred and she was looking towards me for guidance once again, the ghost of her attacker apparently no longer on my face.

Only once I nodded that it was alright, did she move.

As soon as they were taken care of, it was fine to have a look at me. I needed stitches, though the stab wound on my side thankfully wasn't life threatening. However, it did make moving three times harder. Not only was I supported by crutches but I was barely able to move now with them. Dad suggested a wheelchair for when I went out, but I shot that down almost instantly. I wasn't going to be peddled around like I was crippled. I could still walk and I'd use my legs as much as I could. Who knew how long I would have them. In this world, any one could lose a limb or piece of themselves at a moment's notice.

I'd walk wholly for as long as I could, even if it killed me.

After that event, Mari looked at me with a pained, guilty expression. I didn't exactly make it any easier. I was… afraid of her now; afraid that she would be set off somehow and she'd attack again. When I saw Aaron and Eric again, they told me she spent most days in her room and Tara had offered to stay in the house for a while, just to put her a bit more at ease with an adult female presence.

They said it helped.

But any time I saw one of the Waifs I had to duck away. Even if only one of them had wounded me, I didn't think I was able to face any of them just yet.

It was only after Dad had given me a sound lecture for my behavior that I finally realized how cowardly and grudging I had been acting.

Mari had obviously been through something very traumatic. It wasn't her fault that her baser instincts took hold for a moment. She hadn't been of sound mind at the time, and allowing this paranoia to take charge of me and ruin the friendship we had been building was no way to behave.

He was right. He was always right. It was time to make amends.

Later, I walked over to their house and knocked on the door. Tara answered and told me Mari hadn't been feeling very well and was up in her room. There was a small chance she would have liked to see me so it was alright if I went up.

When I opened the door…

A chair was upturned on the floor and her toes dangled in midair. For one insane moment I thought she was hovering. But then I saw the rope and it looked as though the girl had been somehow fashioned into some kind of marionette. I didn't know how to speak. I couldn't breathe. I didn't even think my heart beat.

It was the scariest thing I could ever remember seeing in my life.

"MARI!"

When the strangled shriek left my mouth, it prompted movement from me at last. I righted the chair and jumped up on it, hugging around her chest and elevating her where the noose was no longer constricting her throat.

"TARA!" I screamed struggling to keep the girl from dangling. The woman rushed in and paused only a fraction of a moment before jumping in to help.

We lied her down on the floor where I pressed my ear to her chest to search for a heartbeat. I couldn't hear one. Frantically I turned to Tara. She looked at the girl with a far away expression, like she was looking at something else, the remnants of a memory so awful it froze her where she stood.

"Tara." I hissed shakily with no response. "Tara!"

Her head snapped to me but it didn't seem to really help. She looked lost.

"How do you do CPR?" I asked. The question seemed to terrify her and she hastily switched between Mari to me, uncertain about the question and completely terrified even when I repeated my words. "How do you do CPR?"

She didn't answer, only remained frozen. So tilting Mari's head and placing my hands on her chest, I fell back on all the knowledge I held from watching movies, reading books, and listening to others as they tried to explain the logistics of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

 _How did Michonne explain it?_

 _Tilt the head back, close the nose, and give 2 full breaths. Check the pulse. If there is no pulse, or breathing, start CPR._

I pressed my mouth to Mari's and breathed hard twice. Next was chest compressions: _How many? Five… or was it seven?_

 _Wing it!_ I settled on. It's not like I had any other options.

After a minute there was thumping behind us and I felt a new presence enter the room. I didn't let it distract me, though, even if I knew I was doing this wrong.

Someone took the reins from me just then and I was shoved promptly aside as Aaron crouched over the unresponsive girl and took over.

I had no idea how long he kept at it. It could have been minutes or mere seconds for all anyone could tell; several agonizingly long seconds.

And finally, finally just when we believed there was no more use, there was a cough.

Mari's chest heaved and she coughed right there on the floor. With her coughs came and enormous serge of relief that swept all through the room. I could feel fat drops falling from my eyes as I knelt there on the floor, cradling Mari and sobbing over her rasping breaths. Just as I held the girl against me, Aaron cried as well, folding up around us both.

I couldn't even begin to imagine what the ordeal had done to him, but in that moment it was like all of us were one person sharing in the conjoined relief and terror.

All of us except Tara, who was still struggling to escape the state of shock the experience had brought on her.

At that moment, I couldn't even touch on what was going through everyone's minds.

* * *

"We'll need to keep a close eye on her for a while." Annie explained that evening. She had been a secretary for a pediatric psychologist back when the world was turning. They'd been able to sedate Mari for the time being while Tanti, Luis and Tara were watching over her as she slept.

Eric, Arron, Michonne and I all gathered round the table as Annie explained the state of Mari's mentality. True, she was only a secretary and not a proper psychologist but she was the closest we had to anyone who might've been able to understand her. They had suggested I leave but I insisted on being present.

"Mari's my friend. I should be able help her and to do that I want to understand her."

No one could think of a reason to make me to leave after that, so I stayed put.

Annie continued. "I'd take special care to keep any and all sharp objects, chemicals, and binding materials away from her while she recovers. Don't leave her alone and it might be best if she's not unaccompanied with the little ones either."

"You think she'd hurt her siblings?" Michonne asked in shock. "I mean they're all she's really got and they're the only ones who've really given her reason to keep fighting in the first place. You can't really think…"

"There's no telling where Mari's mental state is right now. I can't say for sure what all she's endured. She's very young to have suffered so much and feel pushed enough to commit suicide. It's really a miracle she pulled through."

After about an hour of discussing and consulting she left, reminding us about keeping a close eye on her until her emotional and mental state had improved.

Before Michonne could say anything about it I tugged on Aaron's sleeve. "Aaron, Eric… I don't want to impose but would it be alright if… if I stayed here for a while. I just want to make sure that she's okay, but only if you're alright with that."

I didn't think they had the heart to tell me no.

"You can bunk on the couch if that's alright with you."

It was. I only went home for a few minutes to grab some clothes as well as a few other things. When I arrived back at their house, the couch was already set up for me.

"Thanks Eric." I said as I set my bag down in one of the chairs.

"I think I should be thanking _you_ , Judith." Eric said, folding up an extra blanket. "Aaron told me about what happened; about how you found her first and how you just… leapt into action straight away. He also told me that Tara froze up."

I looked away, finding the floorboards incredibly interesting just then. "I still didn't do CPR right."

"No one expected you to do CPR right. No one even expected you to leap in like that, but you did anyways. Mari's alive because you acted." He sunk into the cushions and looked ahead into the dead fireplace. "I think if things were to get bad out there beyond the fence… I could trust you with Aaron's life. I don't say that about a lot of people."

I knew what he was saying with those words, and the weight of them nearly took my breath away. "Are you sure…?"

Then he looked at me with a straight, no nonsense expression. "Fear doesn't shut you down, Judith Grimes; it wakes you up. You don't shrink when things get scary; you jump like there's a fire lit under you. Your dad and brother is the same way. Which is why I know you won't get Aaron killed out there."

"Well I haven't gotten myself killed out there, so…" I trailed off, my eyes glancing up at the ceiling where the Waifs were sleeping together and we could hear Tara and Aaron talking. The volume of their discussion was muffled through the boards of the house, but we could still hear the franticness in Aaron's voice as he rounded on Tara for her negligence that day. Tara didn't seem to be able to put up much of a fight, since the majority of the conversation was made in the latter's voice

"He shouldn't be so hard on her." I uttered. "No one expected Mari to try something like that. I mean… I'm partial to blame. When things got rough… I mean, I should have expected the transition to be hard on them, but she has one fit and I just…"

"She stabbed you, Judith. It's not as if you expected it. It's just… human to be wary of her after something like that."

I looked up distantly, a sort of defeated exhaustion ran through me, leaving me almost numb as I sunk into the cushions of the chair. "What _is_ human these days? I feel like it's neither a compliment nor an excuse. I should be better than human."

"We all should." His hand slapped over his eyes just then and a sob escaped him. "I'm sorry. I just… when they first got here… I just don't want them hurting anymore. I don't want to lose my little girl. I'd just like things to work out for once."

"You… you really think of them as your kids? Even though… you're not related by blood? And they've only been here a while..."

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose and he looked away, probably trying to conceal the water gathering in his eyes. "Aaron and I wanted kids a few years after we got together and we talked about it so much, but it's not like either of us can get pregnant here. We didn't think we'd ever get the chance to be real dads, but when you came back with those three it was just… they didn't have anything or anyone and we… we knew the risks and tried to be prepared for whatever came our way but we still didn't see it coming and I just… I just want these kids to be alright. I want them to be safe and happy already. I don't want them to be hurt ever again but I'm worried we won't be able to do that. Is it so much to ask for a little happiness for a couple of broken children? Is that too much to ask?"

He sniffed and wiped at his face, still trying to keep it turned so I wouldn't see what a mess he was turning into. I got up and went to sit next to him, resting my hand on his shoulder. He looked back at me and when he realized I wasn't judging him or being condescending he leaned forward to embrace me.

"Sometimes it's so weird to know how young you are, Judith Grimes." With that I felt him fall apart in my arms; relenting all self control at last. "Thank you for your help through all this. Thank you so much for everything!"

I sniffed as well, trying not to cry too much since he was struggling with that same thing. "It's okay. I just want to do my part for them."

"You do so much for us. Thank you."

We turned when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs and Tara was rushing to the door, hiding her face as she opened it silently and left. Aaron was close behind her, eyes like fire on her back as she left the house.

"It wasn't her fault," I tried to explain. "She was just… in shock."

"I don't care what she was." Aaron said in an uncharacteristically cold tone. "She shouldn't be around kids if she's not ready to handle things this big."

"She wasn't… it's not…"

"STOP TRYING TO DEFEND HER!" Aaron snapped, yelling at both of us. "These are our kids damn it! You don't get to shut down around our kids!" I watched his face transform as he said those words. He seemed to realize his tone just then and worked to reel it in. "I'm sorry I just… I'm tired okay. I'm going to bed. I'll keep an eye on Mari tonight."

"Alright." Eric said after his back before turning to me. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Thanks again for staying over. It really helps."

I nodded and waited for him to leave before changing into my pajamas. When I heard the ceiling creak above me indicating that Eric had climbed into bed, I got out my supplies.

Vanessa's Book of Shadows had countless spells for spiritual, mental, and emotional protection and healing, not to mention ways to fixing depression, dealing with trauma and even a difficult spell to forget things a person didn't want to remember. All of these would be very useful towards the journey of recovery for everyone. Honestly why didn't I think of this before?

"And you call yourself a witch, Judith." I muttered to myself in disappointment.

I couldn't do them all tonight. That was bad form. Spells worked best if you staggered them over the course of a few days. I could start with the simpler ones tonight and move on to the more advanced ones gradually. The spells would be done in threes in a course of three days.

Three seemed to be a heavily magical number and very sacred with magic, or so Vanessa and the books I had read from had instructed me on. But it wasn't just with witches either. Countless cultures and beliefs hold the number three as a prominent role in myth, legend, and the mystery traditions. It's seen all through history and folklore. Three bears, three brothers, three curses, three tries, three, three, three.

So, like the ancients, I too would perform my magic in a sequential trilogy as well.

Tonight would be the healing from the inside out spell, the spell to end heartbreak, and a protection spell for loved ones. Tomorrow I'd work on the erasing harmful memories spell, a peace of mind spell, and a spell to relieve anxiety. And the last night would be used towards an ending depression spell, an adapting to change spell, and finally a happiness spell.

I was a bit concerned about the last one as well as the forgetting spell. Those two relied heavily on the recipient in question and they tended to only actually work if said receiver wanted them to work.

I'd have to talk to Mari and her siblings to be sure they were ready to move forward and if I could get their confirmation the spells would have a higher success chance.

Well couldn't do anything about it tonight, but I could at least get the first three squared away. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. From my bag I pulled out a mirror and three candles carved into two girl shaped doll sort of figures and a little boy shaped figure. With a pen tip I carved in Mari, Tanti, and Luis's names on their respective candle, placing them side by side each other on the mirror. Earlier that day I'd anointed them in mint oil as the spell had instructed.

With them unlit on the mirror I clasped my hands in prayer and imagined a sacred healing energy in the form of white light, flowing from my fingers into the candle. Out loud I uttered, "In the divine name of the Universe who breathes life into us all, I consecrate and charge these candle as magical tools for healing."

With that I lit the candles and concentrated on the Waifs, willing them to be healthy as the candles burned down. The flames flickered as I chanted three more times, "Magick mend and candles burn, Sickness end and good health return."

I stayed like that, visualizing the children living and growing up healthy. It took so long for them to burn but I knew patience was necessary. Vanessa had stressed and stressed the importance of patience in the craft, but _this_ was practically killing me! Every time I thought I might get up to start the next spell I somehow managed to talk myself out of it, conscious that if I didn't give my whole heart into _this_ spell it just might not work the way I visualized simply because I was impatient.

It was agony but I remained in my place, watching the candles burn and melt in front of me. I think it might have even taken hours by the time they finally, finally burned out. At least I had the good sense to keep the candles small.

Now I could start on the heartbreak spell before I groaned. This involved more candles.

I sighed in defeat, figuratively rolling up my sleeves. "Alrighty, might as well get to it."

It was more chanting and more waiting around for the candles to burn away. This time though, I had to burn up some feathers and just to be safe I chose to perform this one in the hearth. I've had accidents with fire before and I sure as hell didn't need another lecture from anyone telling me the dangers about an open flame. Vanessa, Dad, Michonne, and my old friend John could never stress it enough.

By the end of this spell I was yawning and eager to get to bed. But I still had the protection spell to do. Well they weren't so much spells as they were cleansing rituals for a few medicine bags for the Waifs. The thing with medicine bags was that once made they couldn't be opened again, otherwise all the magic would be let loose, and if I knew little kids, they were very curious. So, I had a few things to at least conceal the bags in.

There was a little bumblebee doll for Tanti and a light-up glowbug for Luis. For Mari, I decided a stuffed animal probably wouldn't do much good since she was about grown out of those kinds of toys. Instead I got her a beaded purse I had scavenged from an old house outside of town. It was pretty with a big monarch butterfly on the front and seemed just the kind of thing that would suit her perfectly.

I was able to cut a fair-sized hole in the backs of the toys and stuff the bags in from there, sewing up the holes with a needle and strong fishing string. It was disappointing to admit that my sewing skills were not very good, but they didn't need to be pretty they just had to work. With the purse, I cut a hole in the lining and hid the bag as best it would fit without bulging too much beneath the fabric. Again, it wasn't very neat but I did the best I could and it would just have to work.

The medicine bags I had filled with a different protection stone for each of them, a dried flower, a seashell, a feather, and an individual trinket for each: a thimble for Mari, a hairclip for Tanti, and a dinosaur toy for Luis. As I filled the bags I chanted:

"Blessed be the elements of earth, air, fire, and water!  
Blessed be the fire element  
Blessed be the earth element  
Blessed be the water element  
Blessed be the air element  
And blessed be the element of life for which I recognize with this symbol  
Shower this love with protection and divine energy  
So be it! Blessed be!"

It took about another hour of filling the bags and stitching up the holes in the toys and purse before I was finally, finally finished for the evening.

With the work through, I put everything away in my knapsack and returned the living room to how it was before the work. Yawning again, I curled up on the couch and was asleep in a matter of moments.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: There's another part to this chapter, but it got to be so long that I ended up having to split it. I'll probably post the rest tomorrow. In the mean time there wasn't a whole lot a of Negan and the Saviors in this chapter. Just a little down time for Judith to work some spells and help the Waifs adjust to the town and all.**

 **I like to imagine that Judith is pretty hard on people, sort of like a tough loving kind of person, but there are occasions when she can be really sweet to the people she cares about. Plus, since she was the one to find the three children, there's a great deal of responsibility she feels for them. Sort of like the child who takes in a stray animal and is mindful that any mess it makes is her responsibility to handle.**

 **On an additional note, I have a small confession to make; For a long time I've been neglecting to watch the rest of season 7 of the Walking Dead. I remember watching up to the mid season finale and was extremely hesitant about watching the rest because I wasn't sure how it would affect the direction I wanted to take the story in. About a week ago I finally worked up the nerve to watch the rest of it. I must admit I may change a few things in later chapters, but ultimately I don't believe the plot is going to be too deeply changed by it. I wanted to keep in mind that there was a plan I had no matter what and I intend to follow through as best I am able to.**

 **I mentioned before that I wanted to write a few spin-off drabbles for this story. Maybe just some misadventures Judith has had in the forest a few times before, dangers she's encountered, and some quiet, fluffy moments with her family. If anyone has writing prompts of their own I'd love to hear them. I've also got some art I plan to post on my Deviant account in a few days. If that's something you guys think you'd like to see just let me know.**

 **Alrighty, so I guess I'll go ahead and close by saying, Thank you everyone for your encouraging reviews! It really means a lot to read those comments and if you have the chance please keep them coming!**


	20. Forget My Regret

**Chapter 20  
Forget my Regret**

"Judith, it's morning." Someone (not my father, who typically woke me up in the morning), shook my shoulder. In a single moment all the events of yesterday flooded my mind and my eyes snapped opened abruptly.

"Mari?" I asked worriedly looking up to see Aaron standing over me.

"It looks like she's doing a bit better today." He explained. "She's getting dressed with Tanti and Luis. Do you want breakfast?"

I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes. "It's fine. I'll get food at my house."

"Ah come on, stay for breakfast. It's the least we can do after all."

Oh why not? It was the perfect time to give them the gifts anyways. I pulled on a shirt and a pair of shorts and helped Aaron fry up some mushrooms, eggs and toast. Even with few ingredients to work with Aaron still managed to be one good cook.

When the Waifs made it down, both Tanti and Luis ran up to me, enfolding me in hugs the moment they saw me.

Mari, however was less ready.

"How do you feel today?" I asked carefully.

"Better." She announced simply. There was nothing more we could say so we just sat at the table, eating in awkward silence.

Eric and Aaron were the only ones that attempted occasional conversation but we mostly just ate quietly. When everyone was done I helped them with the dishes.

"Don't you have school today?" Eric asked when he suddenly looked over at the clock and realized what time it was.

"I'm not going today." I said simply. "This is much more important."

"Are you sure your dad will be alright with that?"

"I think he'll understand." I said.

He went quiet after that and didn't push me for details. After a while I went upstairs and visited a bit with the others. I held Luis as he curled up beside me on the bed while also taking that time to give them their presents. All three accepted them with expressions of delight, though Mari seemed to hide a look of guilt behind her sad smile. The younger two cuddled their individual toys close to them while the girl swung the strap over her shoulder and rested the bag on her side, fidgeting every once in a while, with the beaded butterfly on the front.

As the hours ticked by Tanti distracted us while she colored on some old notebooks on the floor, babbling endlessly with mixes of her language and the new English words she had been learning. Every now and then she got up to hand us whatever pictures she had just completed.

She gave Luis one that looked like a little boy shining bright with sparkles all around him. Mari was given a set of three illustrations. The first one was of a girl who looked ugly and sad, then another drawing of something that looked like a mummy wrapped up in green bindings under a sky full of stars and the bright quarter moon, and the last one was of a girl popping out of the wrappings as something much prettier than before with bright colorful butterfly wings.

After flipping through each of them carefully, Mari smiled, looking a bit better.

The picture I was given was of a girl that looked like me, wearing a pointed witch's hat and holding a wand that sparked with magic. There were a few grey and green bodies on the page but the witch seemed to be casting a spell on them that made them all turn and leave. Before lunch she gave me two more drawings. One of the same witch kneeling in front of the body of a sleeping girl then waving the wand again to revive her on another page.

I understood what these pictures meant and I took care to tuck them away in my backpack when we had gone downstairs again.

We all held hands as we filed down the street towards the mess hall for lunch. On the way, we met Dad who was of course concerned that I had decided to play hooky without telling him. But when he caught sight of Mari and the bandage around her throat he sighed and only told me not to skip again without telling him.

It seemed the mess hall was too loud for the girl to really bear just now, so after getting our food we spread out on the hall lawn and ate together in the quiet of the summer day. Tanti carried the majority of the conversation with Eric occasionally interrupting her babbling to add something in Spanish or to remind her that she kept switching between the languages.

Meanwhile, my eyes continued to frequently glance at the girl next to me. Mari's eyes were on her soup and she continued to sip at it silently. Her throat wasn't able to handle anything thicker than liquids right now, but once she built her strength back up, the skill would come back to her. I continued to eat in silence beside her.

Eric and Tanti volunteered to take the dishes back to the hall while the rest of us walked the distance back to the house.

At their house, Aaron did his best to distract the two of us with a puzzle after he put Luis down for a nap, but sometime later he was called out because of a small emergency concerning the fence. As curious as I was about it I knew better than to leave the two other children to personally investigate.

"Can you stay here with her, Judith?" he asked before grabbing his bow and quiver.

"Yes. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks, I'll try and be back as soon as I can."

The door closed behind him and it was just the two of us.

We sat in the living room, staring down at the puzzle between us. There was a thick awkward silence that neither of us seemed to know how to break. A rush of emotion seemed to hit me just then and it took all my strength to keep from responding to it, but it soon became more and more difficult the longer the quiet stretched. After a moment Mari looked towards me, figuring she would try to break the silence first, even if her voice was weak.

"Judith… I…"

"Please." I cut her off, a lump forming in my throat and my eyes burning from out of nowhere. "Just… let me say something before you talk. I know you're going through an awful lot right now. I know you're hurt and scared and everything is so strange for you right now, but when I saw you like that… when I saw what you were ready to do to yourself I just… I can't believe…"

I turned on her, looking her square in the eye even while the tears burned down my cheeks and my voice trembled against the water. "Look! Even if you're hurting, even if you've have things weighing you down so much it feels like you'll be crushed, you have to stick around, okay! You don't get to just… come into someone's life, make them care about you and then just check out! It doesn't work like that you selfish… you stupid…"

Mari looked lost as she stared into my teary face. At last, she leaned forward and took me in a hug, resting her chin on my shoulder while I tried to compose myself.

"Is it so bad that you just have to forget about it, no matter what?" I asked. "Because I'll help you do that. Or… do you need to talk about it? Because I'm here for that, too, Mari. I'll listen to whatever you have to tell me. I'm trying so hard to understand you. I _want_ to understand you. Even if it's so awful you're worried I'll be afraid and turn away from you. Well I won't. You're not the only one who's had to do things to survive. I'm here to help you, however I can. I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just tell me."

Her whole body trembled and her arms held tighter, as if she thought I would be yanked away from her. I could feel water falling on my neck while the rest of her shook in the embrace.

"Why this happen?" She finally asked in a strangled whisper.

"I don't know." I answered, honestly.

" _Everything_ … why to Tanti and Luis? Why this happen to us?"

My heart nearly broke with those trembling words. "Oh Mari, I'm so sorry."

"It… feel so bad!"

"I know."

"Quiero olvidar… want to… forget."

"…Do you really?"

"Sí. Duele mucho. I… want it gone!"

"Then let me help you."

* * *

I led Mari to my house and she followed me up to my room. Hesitantly, she took a seat on the cushion on the floor watching me as I dug around in my untidy closet. My room was still a mess since Negan's intrusion and it was difficult trying to organize things on my bad leg but the girl didn't seem to really mind as her gaze swept over the various things perched on the surfaces or hanging from the walls and ceiling.

At last I crawled out of the closet holding tight to one of the most valuable things I owned.

It was the ancient Book of Shadows Vanessa taught me from.

I still remembered the day she had shown it to me and how marvelous it was to see it for the first time. It was a scrapbook of old poems, little stories, remedies, recipes, legends, tips and tricks, several guides to various magic, and little homemade spells passed down through decades.

It was more than a century old and had worn and withered pages, fading pictures, smeared ink, and whole torn out areas that had been both expertly and clumsily pasted back together. But there were other things inside, too. Secret codes, puzzles, and ciphers, some were even written in invisible ink and required these customized spectacles to read them in. I didn't have those spectacles, they had been lost ages ago, or so Vanessa told me, but some of the passages could still be read when applied with heat, or the pages could be held up directly to the light and read from that way. Even still, I knew those methods were hardly scraping the surface of mysteries that were concealed inside.

There was even a darker part of the book that was separated and locked off from the rest, sealing off the cursed half with a key Vanessa wouldn't give me. I wondered how dark it all really was though, if Vanessa had introduced me to another volume supposedly far more sinister than this grimoire.

In spite of that, it was one of the best, most magical things I'd ever been given. It was _real_ magic, okay. The kind that bonafide witches learned and perfected with years and years of magical talent harnessed under their belts.

It was where some of the most successful spells I had ever tried were found.

I flipped to a page I hoped would help my friend.

There were several notes written in different hands about the spell: reviews on what it had done for those who practiced it before.

 _ **In my opinion, it's the single spell that works the absolute best.**_

 _Success rate 100%... so far._

 _ **Warning: Can be incredibly intense for recipient.**_

Looking over the materials, I left briefly to gather what was needed. When I came back, Mari was still kneeling on the floor, curiously fiddling with one of the crystals from my desk. Her eyes continued to flit over to a glass case displaying butterflies on my wall.

She was so like a butterfly, I thought. And perhaps after she shed what was holding her down, she would be able to transform into something more glorious than before.

I spread the items out, arranging them just so with the book opened to the page I needed.

Mari watched me intently, eyes wide as I worked, drawing the circle and arranging the altar just the way the book instructed with a basin of water in the middle, black candles surrounding it in a half circle facing away from her, and a single white candle in the center. For the final touch, I came around Mari and tied a bandana with a mirror attached to it so that it rested against her forehead, right over her third eye chakra.

As confused as she looked about all of this, she at least had the courtesy not to question it. I turned her shoulders to face forward again and took a seat at the opposite end. Looking down at the instructions, I read the incantation in the Verbis Diablo and gestured down to the bowl. Mari's eyes turned to it, staring into the water with rapt attention. For a moment, she looked skeptical about what was happening, until she began to see things inside the water.

 _Oh come gentle night  
Oh come stars and sun and moon  
Wrap this child in your light  
And cradle her in a silver spoon_

 _Wipe the errors of the past  
Erase the harm of another  
Heal this agony at last  
And keep her near the mother_

 _Though to start anew once more  
Find her courage once again  
Face her demons like before  
And give her strength to win_

 _Naught shall she turn away  
She'll look them in the eye  
Only will they be chased away  
So they may long last die_

 _May this spell at last find peace  
Give this girl her dues  
Let these tears and terrors cease  
And reborn her anew_

Her body went rigid and I could immediately tell that what she was seeing now was not scenes she wished to revisit. Gradually tears began to spill from her eyes and she looked as though she longed to turn away, but the spell wouldn't let her. She started to tremble and rub her arms as though she were cold.

The sight of her in such a state made my heart clench, but the spell did not stop.

And then, one of the candles blew out, then another and another and another.

Marie stared into the water and continued to sob harder than ever. Each tear made little drips into the bowl, upsetting the still water more and more till I could barely see her reflection anymore.

Gradually each and every candle puffed out and when the white candle extinguished in an audible _POOF_ Mari's tears halted abruptly. Her gaze flicked up to look towards me as if everything in her life had suddenly stopped, completely. In a single moment, her body lost all feeling and she promptly spilled to the side and fainted.

With my heart in my throat, I rushed over and checked her breathing.

She was alive.

Sighing in relief, I worked her into my arms, and struggled to carry the girl over to the hammock, where she would be comfortable till she woke. Mari wasn't as heavy as I expected but it was still a bit awkward getting her up there. Once accomplished, though, I busied myself by cleaning everything up while she slept.

Hopefully when she woke again those ghosts in her past would be no more than distant forgotten shadows.

* * *

I hadn't realized at the time that in my haste to help the most damaged of the three, I had unintentionally forgotten about the youngest of the Waifs while he was quietly taking his nap.

I was promptly reminded of my negligence when Eric burst into our house sometime after Mari had fainted and called out for the two of us.

Jumping to my feet, I ran downstairs and met him in the living room where he demanded to know where Mari was while also reminding me about Luis who was in his arms with Tanti at his side.

I had never before felt dumber than that moment right there.

Eric was a little easier on me than Aaron had been on Tara, but it didn't stop me from inwardly beating myself up.

When Mari woke up, she seemed better. Out of curiosity I asked her how she felt.

She thought for a moment. "It feel… not so bad."

"What do you remember?"

Her brow lowered as she tried to search for an answer. "Not much."

"Do you feel better?"

She took her time to respond, but when she did, she turned to me and smiled fully.

"Yes. Did… spell work?"

My first reaction was to immediately nod, but I had to consider this thoroughly for a moment. "I'm still trying to figure that out. Is there much you remember from before?"

"…No."

So then maybe it did work. Even so, with her history, I thought it may have been best if I kept a close eye on her until I was sure about it.

* * *

For the next two evenings, I performed the other spells for the Waifs, divvying them up as necessary between days. In addition, I kept a small notebook of their progress and anything that seemed out of the ordinary, examining and logging anything I found about them. In some ways, it seemed like I was a scientist jotting down the behaviors of various animals in a field journal.

About two and a half weeks later, the three of them seemed to function like perfectly normal people and began to even play with the children around town. Tanti and Luis especially found the company with others much more bearable. Mari, though, seemed to prefer my friendship over others and, in time, it seemed as though the two of us grew a special sort of bond.

For all the trials, we had been through and all the baggage we carried, I was happy we were friends. It was actually the first time I had friends near my own age.

It was common knowledge that I didn't really get along with the other kids in town. They all thought I was weird and most were afraid of me, and maybe they were right.

I was the only one who practiced spells, went outside the wall all alone, was the first to leap into fights, and was stupid enough to stand up to the Saviors and Negan. I think they thought I was a little crazy, and maybe they had a good reason to think that. Sometimes I _was_ a little crazy.

One girl in particular was the bane of my existence around town. Her name was Lizzie Pelzer. If you recall the school play fiasco, it's apparent that I've mentioned her before.

She was three years my senior and we'd been on rocky relations for a very long time. She had strawberry blond hair that curled at the ends, green eyes, rosy skin, and full lips. She cooked with her parents in the mess hall and tended the orchard and the goats. She also worked with our , intending to apprentice under him once she graduated school. If Alexandria had royalty she'd probably be the princess.

It was insufferable being anywhere around as her admirers flocked her wherever she went. The boys drooled after her and all the girls wanted to be her; except for me. I had other things going on. And ever since the uh… Christmas play fiasco I was a bit excommunicated from the other children. Plus, they all believed I was a witch so they were a bit afraid of me.

I hated sitting in class while she carried on about whatever. It was worse that she was one of the older students, which put her in a position to boss the others around if the teacher stepped out for a minute.

One time I begged my dad to let me out of school, explaining to him that I could learn much better on my own, but he wouldn't let me.

I was really happy when the Waifs finally started school with me. Granted there was only about two weeks left for us till summer months, but Arron and Eric thought they might at least become acquainted with everyone.

Lizzie was no longer the prettiest girl anymore since Mari was by far much more attractive than her once she'd regained her health. She carried an exotic sort of mysticism with her and for all the pain she endured I felt those aspects made her twice more attractive, because it meant Mari was a survivor. She would endure whatever came her way and she would take care of the people who mattered most to her, no matter what.

Of course, Lizzie tried to get her to join her posse. When Mari first started the class, Lizzie offered her a seat at her table, making Dora move so there was room. I felt a tremendous surge of smugness when Mari sidestepped her and sat close to me instead with Tanti choosing to sit on my other side. Normally, she would sit with the two other first years, but Mrs. Lakely decided not to press the issue, considering everything the sisters had been through.

According to Annie, apparently what the children had done when we first encountered one another, and why they were so close to me now, was something called imprinting. When things got bad, I was going to be the one they called out for. If a decision was too big for them to make on their own, I was the one they turned to for guidance. If they needed to talk about anything I was the one they would vent to.

In other words, I was just their equivalent to a mama bear.

We did everything together. We ate together, sat together, played together during our free time, handled our chores together, worked together and so on. For people who didn't speak the same language all that well, we were as close as you could be.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Good news! A few more chapters and then we start getting into the good stuff. The thing a few of you have been anticipating is coming up very soon! So hang tight and thank you for all your wonderful support and comments. I know these little side stories seem pointless but I promise they wouldn't be here if they didn't have any importance to them. If you've stuck around for this long I guarantee you are not going to regret it.**

 **A lot of spell work in this chapter. I based Judith's Book of Shadows off of the one from Practical Magic. If you look it up on Google it's a very intricate and beautiful book. Mari and the other Waifs have suffered pretty heavily at the hands of others so a lot of psychological damage has occurred for them which can make their behavior extremely unpredictable at times, thankfully a bit of love and white magic can go a long way with recovery. I'm sure some people probably say, you can't just light some candles and say some words and hope for the best, and maybe you can't, but you never know until you try and there aren't a whole lot of people who rely on magic, so why shouldn't stuff like that work.**


	21. Things You Don't Understand

**Chapter 21  
Things You Don't Understand**

The day I finally lost my splint and crutches was the day school got out for the summer and the next day I would begin my apprenticeship.

I all but skipped the entire way back home, humming and bouncing off of my feet with utter delight.

I was so excited to start working again. Being stuck within the boundaries of the wall was torture and by now I had suffered a great deal of cabin fever. It would be nice to be back with the trees and my game trails, plus I was eager to get back to the island again and see Vanessa. I wondered how it was doing after so much time away.

The moment the splint was off and I was free of the crutches I ventured over the wall to investigate, accompanied by Enid who was just as eager to see the island as I was.

She and Dad had kept their promise to maintain it while I was away. The house though, seemed to be a bit disorganized since the last time I was there. Enid, like me, was not one for housekeeping but I liked to believe my chaos was manageable.

"Sorry about the mess." She tried to explain, reaching for some papers scattered on the floor and moving them to a table. Clothes and unwashed dishes scattered over this surface and that. It looked like Enid was somehow… living here, and true there were whole stretches of days when I didn't see her, but I assumed that was just because we were both busy with our own things. I hadn't known she was voluntarily spending nights in this place.

Her face lit up a bit as I glanced around the messy living room. "I um… come here when I want to be alone. It's a really nice place."

That took me a bit off guard. The island was supposed to be my place of refuge. It was where I learned with Vanessa. I assumed she wouldn't have taken to staying in a real witch's cottage, believing it would be cursed or hold ghosts, but apparently that didn't seem to discourage Enid all too much.

Well I was here now, so order would be restored in time once more. Where her housekeeping skills left much to be desired, at least she had done well to take care of the landscape and greenhouse. I ventured into the glass building just to find the distiller scattered with several different plant specimens.

"Have you been making oils?" I asked, picking up a bottle of something fragrant.

Without expecting it, Enid took it from my hands. "I… well… it's just something to pass the time. I've gotten a bit of a knack for it."

Turning to the work table I spotted other things scattered over it. Salves and soaps and pastes in jars and bottles of every shape and size. There were notebooks as well, some that looked to be written in Enid's handwriting as well as a few I recognized as Vanessa's.

"Are you… studying her books?"

"I just wanted to know more about essential oils and soaps and maybe some remedies." Enid explained hastily. "I thought it would be nice to learn a bit about all this stuff. And if I'm going to watch this place for you I figured it was the least you owed me."

The words caught me completely off-guard.

I hadn't said a single thing about it, but she was treating me like I had just rounded on her. With those words, I instinctively wanted to snap and shout about _her_ not belonging there in the first place. She wasn't a witch and this wasn't her island to just crash in whenever she felt like it. This was a sacred place where a powerful witch once lived, and she was treating it like some kind of Motel 6.

Yet even with that thought, I knew she had still risked her life to come here every day and take care of the land. So, as much as it galled me, I didn't have the heart to tell her just how much I disapproved of it all.

Instead, I just turned around and left to tend the garden, fuming in silent resentment.

I just hoped she would at least have the decency to tidy her crap up before we left today. I didn't have the time or the patience to pick up after another person.

The overall state of the island looked fairly decent, though I still managed to find one or two weeds growing where they shouldn't have been. They could have popped up overnight but it still annoyed me. Enid obviously seemed to have been far too busy with other things to bother keeping the place in decent order.

I tried to put it out of my mind while I fished a bit through the cellar for some bath goods to take to Holly and Cory, the couple that looked after the pigs. I knew they were also running low on things like candles, so it seemed a good idea to take them some of those as well.

My body leapt nearly off my feet when a voice cried out from behind me. "Beetle!"

Whipping around I turned to see Vanessa standing a few feet away, wearing a look of worry.

I held my frantic heart, having been scared almost to death. "Oh, Vanessa, it's just you."

She didn't share in my relief, her face still twisted in concern for some reason. "Beetle. There's been great wrong done here."

"Huh?"

"Your friend is dabbling in things she does **not** understand."

"W–what do you mean?"

She didn't answer, only turned to lead me to a deeper part of the cellar into a far dark corner where an altar had been set up. With horror, I glanced around to gage the kind of ritual that had been in the makings here.

A pentagram was traced around a stone block where the head of a walker lay atop it, gnashing its teeth away without any body to assist its unquenchable quest for flesh. Accompanying it, was the severed leg of a lamb and the beak of a raven on either side it. Written in blood were ancient runes all along the edges of the circle and laying open in the very center of it all was the Poetry of Death.

There was a terrifying chill that permeated the air the moment I spotted this blasphemy.

"What… the… hell!" I hissed at the sight of it all.

My first instinct was to flee from all of it, but for some reason, me feet wouldn't carry me away. My next thought, drove me forward. My foot struck out and kicked the book closed with an impossibly loud BANG, the sound of which echoed through the entire cellar! Next, my feet skidded through the circle, severing the lines and the incantation with it. After that, I took up the knife in my pocket and stabbed the gnashing head in its brains, silencing it forever.

In five seconds flat, I had reduced this evil altar to pieces. I wasn't sure who it was initially intended for but I had a bit of an idea. Even so, I didn't care. After breaking this spell to shambles I took up the evil book and turned on my heal, running up the stairs two at a time.

"ENID!" I screamed. The young adult appeared to me in seconds.

"What? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Yes." I all but shouted at her, waving the Poetry of Death in my hand at her. "What the hell is this?"

Her face transformed in terror at the sight of it.

"Where did you find that?"

"Where do you think?" I hissed resisting the enormous desire to throw it in her face. "What the fuck do you think you were doing?"

"I was doing something!" She fired back. "Everybody seems to have forgotten what those monsters did to us and none of them want to fight for what's ours. But I am! I'm fighting back!"

" _This_ is no way to do it!"

"Why not? Are you a witch or not, Judith Grimes? You strut around town playing the part but you haven't done shit to right the wrongs those monsters have done to us. Even when it's at your fingertips, you completely refuse to do what's necessary. Well I say if you won't, _I_ will!"

"This is not the way!" I yelled back at her.

"What is the way, then? Kill or curse, what's the difference? The way I see it, harm is harm—what does it matter about the manner in which it is dealt?"

"It's not worth the cost of your soul!"

" _Soul_? Are you going to try and tell me you believe in that garbage Father Gabriel spews? You know better than anyone that's all a load of crap!"

"Maybe I don't necessarily believe in those teachings, but I know there are spirits out there who were kind and decent in life but are wandering around with darkness and wrath in them with no way out because they're holding on to the terrible crimes done to them. And this stuff," I shook the book at the older girl, demonstrating how seriously messed up this was, "is a good way to make sure you become just like them when you pass on! So you better ask yourself now; is a moment of revenge worth eternity for my soul? Is playing with the devil really worth my damnation forever? Because if so, you can take this book right now and go finish what you started, but if you do, you get off this island right now and don't you ever come back! I'm not carrying that weight for you and I won't let you drag down the people we love because you wanted to play with crap you don't know crap about!"

The air grew eerily silent after those final words and neither of us moved for a long time.

Finally, Enid turned on the spot and left through the door of the cottage, leaving me alone with the Poetry of Death still in my hand.

Later that day I locked the book in an old trunk, filled it with sand and purified crystals and buried it under the same broken altar. As a further precaution, I performed a cleansing ritual, bidding the forces in the book to rest where they were and not stir so long as it was in the chest.

I thought about burning it, or sinking it to the bottom of the river but there were several terrible fables that rang in my head about people who'd tried to rid themselves of a cursed object in similar fashions only to meet with horrible misfortune later on.

The following days after that, Enid and I barely spoke to one another and I did not find her at the island again.


	22. The Hunter's Apprentice

**Chapter 22  
The Hunter's Apprentice**  
The next day I began apprenticing with Aaron. There were some days when Dad would take me out himself but in retrospect, I think I preferred Aaron's company over his.

Dad, for all his good qualities, wasn't a very accomplished hunter. He kept getting side-tracked with walkers and all that. It was like some kind of OCD for him but any time he saw one, he immediately had to kill it. I mean, I knew they were dangerous and all for other people, but if it was unnecessary and if it hadn't seen either of us, then I say, just let it go about its merry way. When he was constantly getting up like this to go _off_ those wandering bodies it tended to scare away edible game more than it would have otherwise.

And then there were his jokes—Oh my god, his jokes!

Every time it got to be too quiet for my dad, he figured it was the perfect opportunity to bust out with some twisted gag from out of nowhere.

"Hey Judy, how many tickles does it take to tickle an octopus?"

"Dad, please." I muttered rolling my eyes for the thousandth time.

"Ten tickles." Then he would pull this weird face I couldn't describe and lean towards me like it was the smartest moment of his life. "Ten tickles, Judy."

Even if they were corny, even if they were the worst puns I'd ever heard in my life, he always managed to make me snort with laughter, and it was that much more galling because it meant he won and despite my best efforts I still lost!

I think he kept some kind of secret book of over a thousand Dad Jokes stashed away somewhere so he'd have new ones every day we were out there. Even if it was a little ridiculous I endured his quips because they were rare moments when I could just bond with my parent.

Even so, for anyone who knows how to hunt, they know that it is a skill that requires patience, stealth, and silence. It's all for nothing if you are constantly rampaging around to kill other things. And with a dad who's eager to bust out with a corny gag every chance he's given it's a little difficult to keep a low profile for animals.

At least Dad was good with snares. Those were things he excelled enormously at and if it weren't for those, we'd probably be returning home empty-handed quite often.

Thankfully, there was a lot of work around town that required his attention most of the time, leaving me with Aaron.

With both our help we began hunting much larger game than I was used to and it was nice being able to haul more than I could typically carry back.

This was what I had missed when I used to go gathering with John. On my own, it just didn't feel like I could get very much done. I still missed my mentor and friend but Aaron was good company and still offered to teach plenty to me.

I showed him my favorite fishing spots and, with his help, I was able to haul back three times as much as I could carry on my own. In fact, we were even allowed a wagon and a horse. The amount of food we brought back was a smorgasbord I could only have daydreamt of and by the end of the first day with him I had to admit that having a capable partner really did make a difference, not to mention the perks of working with one of the town leaders.

It was so nice not having to keep my activities in the forest a secret anymore. While the discovery of my strange divertive power remained confidential between Enid and myself, there was a terrible feeling that the more freedom given to me, the more likely that secret would be discovered. So as time wore on I wondered more and more if I should just come out and tell Aaron.

There had already been quite a few close calls, and I had saved Aaron on a number of occasions with my knives and slingshot, but it seemed as though nothing immensely dangerous had happened to really warrant suspicion from him about me.

He was my hunting partner so perhaps it was time to extend some trust to him. He already trusted me with his life if he was willing to drag a kid along each and every time he left the walls for walker roaming grounds; wasn't it only fair? My luck was running low and I knew it. Eventually I would have to tell him or he would figure things out on his own. It was just trying to find a way to do it that was hard.

I considered this choice as the two of us gathered mushrooms and black berries. We filled seven whole gallon sized baskets of the sweet fruit, enough to give each family one quart of it. We even found more truffles but only enough to divide it up between the two of us and our families—oh and Negan, of course.

"The berries should make the rest of them happy. I think we deserve a bit of a bonus for all our hard work so we'll hang on to the truffles." Aaron announced, popping one of the purple fruit in his mouth. We lounged on the cart, taking a well-earned break to enjoy the day and eat some sandwiches. It _was_ much nicer having a partner and I swung my legs back and forth in satisfaction.

"You know we could dig up some of those bushes and grow them in town." He suggested. "That'd make things a little safer, and we wouldn't have to come so far out to find them."

I pondered this. "Yeah… I guess that makes sense."

"You don't want to?" He asked, noting my tone.

"No. Of course I do." I said hastily, but he seemed to see through me and I had to amend my words. "Well… I guess I just like coming out here."

He chuckled as he looked at the bushes in thought. "You're made for this."

I glanced sideways towards him and thought this may have been as good a time as any to tell him the truth.

"Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"I… want to tell you something."

"What is it?" He asked curiously.

"Well… I-I just wanted to tell you…" I studied him, considering how I was going to word this enormous secret when my heart suddenly lost its nerve. "I just wanted to say… I'm really happy I've got help now."

He snorted in agreement. "Yeah you can say that again. Help with this is always welcomed."

"Yeah… it sure is."

Inside I scorned myself endlessly.

 _Coward!_ I yelled. _Spineless coward!_

* * *

"Mrs. Byron? It's Judith. I've got your delivery today."

Mrs. Byron was one of our oldest citizens and one of the nicest, too. In a way, I viewed her a bit as a sort of grandmotherly figure and sometimes took care to reserve special goods for her that would help her with her aging body. I heard her coming to the door and stepped back as she swung the screen open.

"Well hello there, honey." She stepped aside and I walked in, setting the supplies down on the dining room table.

"Hello. I've got some things for you." I gestured to the crate. "A plucked pheasant, lemons, mushrooms, a full jar of honey, and some white willow tea to help with your joints." I paused as I picked up a concealed container, wrapped carefully in brown paper and tied off with a string. I'd been extremely cautious while preparing this one. I'd heard about the rising challenges her pain brought on and had consulted Vanessa about it. I didn't know a whole lot about glaucoma but she had instructed me on how to grow and prepare a treatment that might've helped.

"I also found this to help with the pain in your eyes."

When she glanced in the bag she squeaked in surprise at the sight of it. "Is this… don't tell me this is…" She couldn't seem to finish the idea, but I nodded in confirmation.

"I found a glade where they were growing wildly. I found some instructions on how to dry and prepare it."

"Judith, you haven't been—"

"No." I said, quickly waving the idea out of her mind before she could say what we were both thinking of. "No, I just heard it would help with what you're going through right now. If you don't want it I'll throw it out right now, but I just thought…"

She rested a hand on my cheek appreciatively, another sentence cut off before it was finished. "You went through all this trouble just for me?"

"Of course. It's what I'd want someone to do for me if I was under all that pain."

There were tears sparkling in her eyes just then and she turned towards her kitchen. "Oh, you're such a good girl, Judith. Let me give you something for all your hard work."

"That's alright, Mrs. Byron. You don't have to give me any—"

"Oh, pish tosh!" She declared, coming around the corner with something in her hands. "I was planning to give it to you anyways, but now I want to give it to you even more. Besides which, I can never freely give anything to whomever I want to these days. You already do so much to help everyone—and at your age, too. You should be playing rather than worrying about all of us."

I smiled, shaking my head at the thought. "Honestly, I like doing it. It's fun."

"Well you've definitely earned something sweet for yourself."

She put a tin container in my hands and I opened it to find creamy white cookies that looked like dollops of hardened frosting topped with purple syrup.

"I used those black berries you gave me." She said proudly.

"Oh, those were for _you_ to enjoy." I responded with slight disappointment.

"I did enjoy them and this is the least I can do for all the help you've given me and everyone during these hard years."

"Really, I'm happy if everyone else is happy. Whatever I can do to contribute is all I want."

She held one of my hands, patting it affectionately. "You're so smart and brave. Everything you do is so brave, sweetheart."

I shook my head, feeling guilty for her kind words because there were so many things I was hiding from these people. If they knew the truth, would any of them ever trust me again?

I looked sadly at the gift in my hands. "I'm not. Really I'm not."

She only kept smiling warmly, before leaning forward and enveloping me in a hug. It was so warm and so sincere that it only made me feel worse. She shouldn't have been so kind to me. If she knew the truth she would never want to be kind to me again. No one would.

Just then Mari walked in.

I swallowed at the sight of her, my heart rushing in my chest. Today she wore a green top with yellow embroidered bees and yellow pants to match. Her hair was its natural curly brunette lochs and bounced whenever she moved.

Sometimes, I really couldn't believe how pretty she looked.

She smiled when she saw me and came forward, offering her most recently finished project up. It was a plaid long sleeved button up shirt for one of the men, maybe Aaron or Eric. It was well sewn and I knew it would look good on either of them.

I nodded my approval and she turned it to bring my attention to the back of the collar where a tag would have gone had it been made eleven years before now. It was sewn in the shape of a simplified butterfly—or a sort of personal logo embroidered in green thread. She had drawn the logo carefully with her initials to look like a butterfly.

"M.Y.R.?" I asked curiously.

"Mari Yolanda Reese."

Mrs. Byron smiled proudly to her apprentice and chanced a careful hand on the girl's shoulder. "I showed her the little embellishment I always put on my creations and had her make one for herself. She's very proud of it."

"I like it." I told her directly. "I think you're a lot like a butterfly, Mari. You're always so colorful and you had to accept a lot of change lately. I think it might be your spirit animal."

She smiled warmly and struggled with the thanks she had been learning from Eric. "Thank you… for your kind words." She still struggled with her accent, but it was coming along nicely.

"You're welcome."

Just then she pulled something else out and handed it to me. It was a macramé friendship bracelet with a green triangle pattern and wooden red beads. It was like the kind I'd seen in pictures from old preteen girl novels.

"A friendship bracelet." Mari explained.

"Oh, this is so nice. Did you make it as well?"

"She did." Mrs. Byron announced. "I watched her place every knot. She's very proud of that one."

"I'll wear it always." And I promptly tied it over my left wrist, holding it up where I could admire it. "I love it! It makes me want to give you something now."

She looked so happy when I accepted it and she demonstrated by tangled her fingers through mine so she could hold my hand. "Friends." She announced with my hand in hers.

I nodded, blushing from the contact. "Okay, yeah. Friends."

Yes. We were already good friends.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Two chapters today since the first one wasn't that long. We're one chapter away from the real good stuff you guys, from here on out it's going to start getting really interesting.**

 **I love the Rick jokes you can find on pinterest and decided to work a few of those in here. If you guys haven't seen those yet, you should check them out, they're hilarious.**

 **And for those of you wondering, even though she didn't exclusively say what it was I think most of you can work out what it was that Judith gave Mrs. Byron. I read that it can grow wildly but it's very rare. And then there's the whole Zombie Apocalypse so who can exactly predict what that might do to the ecosystem and what not? For all anyone knows it dropped from someone's pocket as they were running away or were zombified and it was on them while they were wandering around and conditions were well enough for a bush just sprouted right from the spot.** **Being a witch and herbalist I'm sure Vanessa knew a thing or two about how to prepare it medicinally and taught Judith a thing or two about it.**

 **Thank you everyone for your amazing reviews. Keep them coming! :D**


	23. Bearskin

**Chapter 23  
Bearskin**  
It was warm in the forest. The air was rich and thick with the scent of trees and earth and animals. Everything was still. We crouched in a ditch, watching small birds flit by in flocks and on their own. At last we perked when something large caught our attentions; a buck, with branching antlers, appearing from the shrubbery as something almost regal.

It was almost saddening to shoot something so beautiful, but Aaron took aim with his bow and brought it down in two shots. It ran for a few feet before the wounds in its neck and shoulder brought it down for good. For added measure I tossed a knife at its skull, to give it a quicker death.

It was huge and even more beautiful up close, though the blood did mar the beauty slightly. I shared a look with Aaron and grinned.

"Wow! I've never seen a deer this big before."

"Me neither." Aaron stated, amazed by his own luck and skill.

"Nice job." I applauded. "This is gunna be great."

"Yeah… beautiful hide isn't it. Look at these antlers."

My smile was enormous as I jumped to my feet and turned. This would feed the town for weeks. "I'll go get the cart."

I was only gone for about ten seconds when I suddenly heard a roar and Aaron shouting. "Oh shit!"

Instinctively, I sprinted back as fast as I could, my mind leaping to walkers.

It wasn't the undead, but a bear; huge and towering, roaring right in Aaron's face. It struck me dumb by how enormous it was and for a moment I forgot how to speak. But then my eyes caught on my companion and I found my voice.

"Aaron!"

Despite my shout I saw the man freeze up worse than a deer in headlights. He should have drawn his weapon, but he didn't. He didn't even turn to run!

Why didn't he move? What was wrong with him?

Another roar shook the trees and a massive paw rose just then, claws the size of butter knives catching the sun. Instinct took over for me as I sprinted forwards and slammed into the man hard enough to knock him down. My interference probably saved his neck from a gash that would have killed him, but it did put my back in line to take that mauling. I heard the fabric of my shirt rip and searing claws scrape down the skin of my back.

The pain didn't register fully as all my senses clogged with adrenaline. It's amazing what someone can do when all fear flies out the window and whatever's left is merely the pure instinct to save what's important to you.

I jumped to my feet with a knife in my hand. I took aim and threw it directly into the beast's eye. There was a guttural wale of fury and pain from the beast and its balance was lost. It was too late for me to scramble backwards though, as I watched it toppling forward.

It was like a ton of bricks fell on me; hairy, cushiony, fat bricks.

I lied there with the weight of the bear pressing down on me, constricting and suffocating. Only my arm was free as I swatted the ground around me for a branch, a root, a hand to pull me out from under that crushing hairy monster. Finally, someone caught me and pulled me free enough to get my head out. I sucked in air, immediately grateful for the breeze that cooled my face.

Aaron gripped my hand tightly and pulled, tugging so hard I was afraid he'd pull my arm straight from the socket.

"Judith! Judith, are you alive? Say something!"

"Pull me out!"

I worked my other arm free to let him grab it and once he had both hands he tugged hard. With countless grunts and words of profanity he pulled me free from the animal and I scooted out, sucking in gasps of air and swallowing back spit to water my mouth.

A few seconds went by before Aaron sucked in sharply. He turned my back to face him and muttered low at the sight of it. "Oh god! Your back is a mess!"

With my mind fully focused on it now, I could feel the actual "mess" of it perfectly well. He led me to the wagon where the med kit was and fixed me up the best he was able. It was agony to move, but I stopped the cries and complaints I would have made otherwise as I sat on the wagon with my shirt off to let him view the damage easier.

"My god, look at you." He muttered, taking in the shape of me as he dressed the wound over my back. It probably wasn't as pretty as an actual doctor's work, but it would have to do for the moment. "Your father will kill me when he sees this."

"I doubt that." I announced holding still as the gauze wrapped around my middle. My eyes watered with pain and it was almost torture to hold back the whimpers. It would need stitches the moment we got back, but for the moment I'd walk it off. "W-we can't replace you. I'll be out of the game for a while but there's plenty of adults to take my place to help you."

"Don't talk like that, Judith." He insisted. "There is no one that can take your place. _Seriously_ , there really isn't."

I said nothing to that till he was finally finished, wincing while I pulled my tattered shirt over my head and tried not to move in a way that the wounds didn't agree with. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Aaron gape when I jumped off the cart. "We can't stay out here. We've got to get you back, right now."

I shook my head, moving towards the game. "No, we need to get these into the cart."

He looked at me like I was out of my mind. "We can't worry about them right now. We have to get you to the infirmary."

"We can do that later." I insisted, ignoring the sting on my back as much as I possibly could. "I'll be fine. _Really_. But these we've got to get on there right now. I'm not letting a bear _and_ a buck go to waste because I got scratched."

"It's much more than just a scratch, Judith."

"It doesn't matter!" I snapped, brushing the pain aside while I stepped up to them and considered what the best course of action would be for hauling the large carcasses in the cart. "You can help me or not, but I'm not letting these go to waste out here. I won't."

"Jesus, Judith, you've just been mauled!"

"I don't care about me!" I yelled without thinking.

He stared at my back and I could only imagine the look of total shock while I myself looked down at our two kills, stunned myself. I hadn't even realized that was what I thought of myself. Did I really not care about my own wellbeing?

Aaron sounded appalled when he finally spoke. "Well you might not care a whole lot, but there are still other people that give a damn about you, Judith, and the last thing they would want you to do is kill yourself over some deer steaks and a bear rug."

"It's not just that…" I explained. I couldn't really understand it myself. What was this obsession I had with providing for our family? And yes, now that I really thought of it, I considered it an obsession. But why did I drive myself? Why did I push myself so unnaturally, when others would take things slow? Why was I like this?

"I… don't know why, but this is important. Not just to the town, but to me, too, okay. It's life and death. If I'm killing something, there's a purpose for it. It's not meaningless, alright! I'm not going to waste lives!"

"No one ever said you did."

"Well I don't want to start then. So, help me with these. They're going to feed the living, not the dead, alright!"

I lowered the ramp we had as close to the animals as we could, then I grabbed the old tow ropes. Unable to stop me, Aaron did his work to help. Through some clever ingenuity on Aaron's part, we were able to create a sort of pulley using the ramp, ropes and horse's strength in order to load the animals on the cart. It was hard and took longer than an hour to really figure out and set it up. Plus, I had to work through the gouges on my back; a feat that proved painful and unbearably difficult. But I knew that if I looked like I was in pain, Aaron was going to insist on going back before we were done, so I swallowed back the tears and tried to think of other things.

Only when we at last got them loaded up, were we allowed to be on our way. The exertion just about made me pass out and I could tell from the wetness on my back that the claw marks were bleeding again and making the wrappings sticky and crusty when they started to dry.

My head bowed where I sat in the cart and a cold sweat doused my forehead while my head spun like a top, making the world blurry and offset.

Just then, we rounded a corner of a high building and Aaron hissed sharply.

"Oh shit!"

Alerted by his tone I looked up and saw the culprits to his terror. An enormous herd of the dead bard our way and rambled straight for us. From the size of it, I was lucid enough to estimate there had to be at least a hundred in that one herd alone. The horse bucked and neighed, kicking on his front hooves upon the herd's resounding moan of greeting. Aaron began to back the cart up, but I stopped him. I was too drained and in too much pain to let him find an alternate road back home or to let him disastrously fight our way through. And even if we did turn, the herd would be on us in no time. There was only one way out of here.

I put a hand on his arm. "Don't! There's no time."

"We've got to get out of here!" He shouted reaching for his bow and quiver, ready to abandon our kills and livestock for a distraction as we ourselves got away.

But I only slipped from the cart and limped towards the horse's reigns, attempting to calm the animal.

"Judith! JUDITH WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

I ignored him and turned to the herd. At the sight of me, the nearest walker stopped dead in its tracks. Its reaction was like a strange ripple through the herd. It stopped advancing and swayed in its spot. In seconds, all the ones that had me in sight did the same while the ones behind them followed the reaction of the others like sheep.

I could feel Aaron's reaction behind me, and knew without looking that he was speechless and still. He couldn't move a muscle.

But just when he froze, the walkers began to move, ambling away from me and suddenly disinterested in our cart, our animals, or us.

I walked forwards and the horse followed uncertainly, but only when it saw the dead bodies dispatch almost like a crowd of regular people. Aaron stayed in his seat on the cart, unable to move or speak. Maybe he was afraid of breaking whatever spell I had over them with any noise.

It was like the red sea's parting or a boat cutting through a very still lake. The walkers just turned and chose a new direction where they would be as far from me as possible.

Finally, Aaron just couldn't hold back and tested the waters carefully, "H-how are you doing that?"

I didn't answer him. We broke through the herd eventually and our way home once more stood before us unobstructed. I led him all the way back and any walkers in our path turned tail at the sight of me. At last, the walls were in range and when my eyes fell on them, the strength left in me snapped away and I fell to the ground, exhausted and spent.

"Judith!" Aaron cried, jumping from his position and rushing towards me. Even close to the edges of unconsciousness I still felt his arms lift me up and put me on the seat of the cart before climbing up himself and whipping the reigns.

"Giddiup!"

The horse began to run after that and didn't stop till we had reached the gate and Aaron was yelling for them to open it quickly.

I've never been on a rollercoaster, but the way my head was spinning gave me the sensation that I was rushing up in a winding loop. My back was enflamed, but I felt no energy to move or respond to it. I just tried to hold still. Shouts were being tossed around when we got through, though nothing coherent. I could recognize some town's folk and a few Saviors among the voices and in a matter of moments I heard my own father's voice breaking through all the others.

I could also hear the Waifs' trembling voices as they gathered on the side, talking to Aaron frantically in Spanish, probably asking what had happened and why I was hurt.

Then someone took me in their arms, taking extra care not to touch my bleeding back. From the strength of the one who held me, I predicted it must have been Dad. Unfortunately, I wasn't responsive enough to really say much or to even open my eyes. All the feeling from my body was draining and my mouth was dry and papery from growing dehydration.

But despite the chaos in my body, there seemed to still be the lingering need to reassure him. "I'll… be okay, Dad… I'll be… okay…"

I had just enough sensation to feel a bed under my stomach as Dad lied me out. There were more offset voices, one of which I recognized as Tobin's. That was about when I assumed he would start whatever treatment or procedure was needed on me.

Without warning of any kind, someone poured flaming gasoline on my back. The fire ignited my opened wound and my body reacted instinctively to it, desperate to find an escape from the fire.

I think I screamed, loud enough to shake the walls it felt like.

Why, oh why would they do something like that to me?

A force like hands and arms pinned me back down while I tried to struggle. My eyes opened when something was pressed to my mouth and through the blur of tears I saw Michonne offer me a piece of wood to bite down on. People were saying different things, using different tones of voice while I tried to buck them off. The fire lasted only a few seconds before it was doused, but then there was stabbing, of something thin and long and it winded through my skin, pulling and tugging it back together.

Whimpers escaped me as they continued and hot tears continued to leak from my face. It lasted forever and ever, and even beyond that.

There were gentle coaxing voices while it all persisted, carrying encouraging tones, but those words were drowned over the sound of the ring of the needle in my ears. They took their time in wrapping it all up and that involved more movement and binding.

Finally, finally, it was all over and the world was still at last.

There was more talking above me and a new hand was on my shoulder, rousing me carefully.

I concentrated on focusing on the voice and suddenly smelt something steaming being pressed under my nose.

"Judith, we need you to drink this, okay." It was my dad, offering me a tin cup of something hot. "It'll help with the pain and put you to sleep."

I wasn't sure if I could down anything other than water. My mouth and throat were both dry but my stomach was queasy.

"Do I have to?" I moaned.

"Only if you don't want to be awake in pain all night."

Moving carefully, I tipped the cup and downed what tasted like honeyed willow tea and poppy oil, allied with a few more complimenting herbs along with it. It was a weak sort of painkiller and tranquilizer but it was the only thing we really had to use here. Some of it dripped down my chin, but I did my best to finish the whole thing with my father's insistence. Then I lied back and waited for sleep to take me. It wasn't long.

I had already been exhausted but this at least settled the ache and dizziness in my brain enough to find a peace in all the chaos.

Oblivion opened its arms to me and I fell into the embrace like it was a consoling parent. There was such safety in the depths of that void.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Cat's out of the bag, everyone! What we've been waiting for finally arrived! YAY! Things are going to be getting good from here on out. If I can get a few more comments for this chapter I'm going to post maybe two more chapters this week. I've also written this chapter from both Negan and Rick's POVs so I'll post that as well.**

 **Thank you everyone for you're wonderful support and keep up those reviews. Luv ya!**


	24. Bearskin (Rick and Negan's POVs)

**Chapter 24  
Bearskin (Rick and Negan's POVs)**

 **Part 1 (Rick)  
** It always set me on edge each and every time Judith went out beyond the wall. Something always tickled in the back of my mind, whispering the worries of typical separation anxiety symptoms for a parent. As much as I wanted to, I knew it was unrealistic to be with her all the time out there. As the town leader, there were a whole lot of things that required my attention if we were going to feed ourselves and those vultures through the winter. Summer was upon us sure, but we still had to pull twice the weight.

No matter what I tried, what methods of distractions I used to occupy myself with, those fears and worries continued to eat at me, inventing new and torturous ways of harm to befall my child out beyond the safety of this wall. After all, the last time she was out there, she'd been attacked. Not just that but a storm had blown through and she'd come home two days later with a sprained ankle and three foreign, half-starved, traumatized, and mutilated children, one of which had injured Judith and had tried to take her own life in addition to that.

What was going to happen to her this time?

Would she even come back?

Slowly, very slowly, I sucked in a deep breath.

She could take care of herself. She had been taking care of herself out there a long time. She knew how to survive and how to handle walkers. She was young but she wasn't clueless. Judith knew what she was doing.

I tried keeping that in mind while I occupied myself till she returned. And there was plenty to occupy myself with for the moment.

It was another Savior pickup. Negan wasn't here thankfully, so Judith's presence was nonrequired. I was glad. Whatever fascination he had for my kid made me furious each and every single time he called for her. Even if Simon was scum, at least he didn't seek out any of our kids to examine.

I bit back more rage as Simon passed off his usual acts of disrespect and conceited little comments. I wanted to tell myself that they were meaningless little nothings—feats meant to make him look bigger than he was. The Saviors could act like assholes only because they had _our_ guns, but without their little shields they weren't worth shit. They knew we were the strongest group they'd come across so far and the only way to keep us subservient was to take away our lines of defense.

It wasn't our only one—maybe it was a large one, but it wasn't the only one. On days like today, I still remember the Battle of Alexandria fresh in my memory. We fought our way through an army of walkers that outnumbered all the Saviors ten to one with hardly any gun fire or training from the town's people otherwise!

But that had been a long time ago.

Did we still have that fight in us? Probably not.

Was our glory gone, entirely?

Judith didn't think so. Judith wanted to fight. If we ever came to war, she'd fight in the front lines without needing to be asked, but that would never happen. I'd rather die and live as a walker than let Judith do something that crazy.

I was brought out of my thoughts as shouts distracted both of us. I saw people running towards and from the gate just then.

Michonne rushed at me and I could see the unfiltered terror on her face followed swiftly by tears. "Rick! There's been an accident!" I barely needed her to say anything before the fear was coating my veins with ice. "It Judith!"

I was sprinting to the gate before she even finished.

 _No._

 _Please no._

 _Not Judith._

 _Not my little girl._

 _Stupid!_

 _So stupid!_

 _I never should have let her have her way!_

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck!_

 _FUCK!_

I spotted over a dozen of our citizens crowded around the cart I recognized as the one Aaron and Judith had been granted for their trips in the woods. I had given up on God a long time ago but as I neared it and the severity began to fall heavier and heavier over me, I prayed—I prayed to God and any and every single heavenly force above not to take my baby girl from me. They could have anyone else—they could have _me_ if they wanted—but not my child!

He was so fucking selfish! So fucking greedy and merciless and fucked up!

He took my livelihood, my dignity, my humanity, my best friend, my wife, my whole fucking world—did he need to take my baby, too?

Out of all things that existed he was the single worst piece of trash that had ever been fathomed. He bestows beautiful, wonderful things on people just so he can feel the satisfaction of ripping them from us in the most horrifying ways that can be.

 _You bastard! You sick, selfish bastard!_

 _I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!_

 _Don't you take her from me! Don't you dare!_

I sprinted to the cart, shoving through the bodies and shouting over the voices to get Aaron's attention.

"What happened? What the fuck happened?"

A path was made for me and when I caught sight of a familiar tiny body leaning against Aaron's chest, drenched with blood and her shirt in tatters, there was nothing else in the world that I saw.

I dove for her, taking her in my arms myself and sprinting again.

My heart was a hammer beating against my caged ribs, and the only sound I heard was my own frantic panting.

This felt all too familiar. I had done this before—twice in fact. Sprinting through the woods while Carl bled through his chest, searching for someone— _anyone—_ to save my boy. And then it happened again through a herd of a thousand biting, devouring walkers when a gaping hole had been blown into his very head. Twice my boy had nearly been ripped from my hands forever and twice he'd fought through.

But this wasn't my son this time. This was my daughter. Would I be so lucky a third time?

 _Yes! Please!_

Judith was strong. She would live. That's what I had to keep telling myself. Judith would fight to live.

I burst into the infirmary shouting as I entered, "TOBIN! TOBIN! THERE'S BEEN AN ACCIDENT!"

Without needing to be told twice the man pointed to a bed and I lied her out. I had been so concerned with her life that I hadn't realized Judith was just barley lucid.

"…it's okay… I'll be okay…" she murmured. As Tobin got his tools, I scarcely gave time to register that Michonne and Aaron had both entered, merely seconds behind me in my mad dash. For the first time, I slowed down enough to notice just how extensive Judith's wounds truly were. Her back had been messily wrapped with gauze but once cut away for better examination I had to stifle my shock and fear once again.

Mauled. She had been mauled. Four, horrifying bleeding lines traced down the slope of her back, and I had to stifle a gasp at the sight of the mess and how severe it looked.

"Rick!" Aaron tried to explain.

"Was she bit?" I turned on him, feeling myself becoming unhinged as I gripped at his shirt in blind panic. "WAS SHE BIT!"

"No. It was a bear. It wasn't a walker, I swear. A bear attacked her."

There was only a miniscule bit of relief I found in that statement. She wasn't out of the woods yet, but at least now she had a chance. If it had been a walker there was absolutely nothing we would be able to do and Judith was utterly dead for real.

"She… she saved me, Rick." Aaron announced, looking utterly perplexed about such a thing. Behind his tone though, there was a different meaning in those words. "She saved me and… there's something else but… _it's impossible_ …"

He trailed off as Tobin called our attentions back over. There was a bottle of antiseptic in his hands and the supplies for stitches in the tray beside him. With dread, I realized what he needed us to do.

"I need you to hold her." He confirmed. "This is going to hurt a whole hell of a lot."

It was cruel to inflict so much more pain on her, but our supplies for sterilizing infections was so limited that there really were no other options.

I gripped her shoulders while Michonne took hold of her hips. The bottle tipped over and splashed directly over the open wounds. Her response was instantaneous. Through the haze of her drained stupor she screamed high, piercing my heart worse than a hundred bullets.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, honey." I tried to console. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

Michonne circled around, kneeling so she would see her on the opposite end of the bed. There was something in her hand and she offered it to the girl to bite down. I barely saw it while I concentrated on focusing my attention on Tobin's procedure. First, he did his best to clean the wound, mopping it up till the majority of the blood was gone and then grabbing a curved needle and some medicinal thread.

I wasn't sure I could watch this part so I turned back to gage the expression on my daughter while the needle bit into her over and over again.

Her face twisted with agony and sweat doused her skin, sparkling under the electric lights and dampening the sheets under her. She still struggled, screaming through the stick she bit down on as she tried to escape over and over again. Through it all Michonne and I took turns attempting to sooth her.

"We're almost done here." Tobin vowed, pulling forward the final stitches. "You're doing great, Judith. Just a few… more… and… done."

By the end of it all she was near delirious. I had held out the hope that she could pass out from the pain and find release during the rest, but she had instead remained awake to suffer through every horrifying moment of it all. By the end she was sobbing and had bit the stick so hard it was one more bite away from snapping clean in half.

"There we go. The worst is over, we just need to wrap it now."

It wasn't as difficult as I expected. It was still painful for Judith no doubt, but I only had to hold her up for a moment while Tobin and Michonne took turns binding her up. At last, at last, it was all over.

"You did so well, Judith. Very good."

I'm not sure she heard us though as she fell back on the covers and heaved in large gasps, the last of the tears sliding down her cheeks. While Michonne and I had been assisting Tobin, Lizzie, the medic apprentice, had taken the opportunity to boil some water. The best sedative and pain relief we had to offer her was white willow bark tea and poppy seed oil with some added medicinal herbs. It worked to an extent and would at least knock her out for a while but the wounds would continue to ache for several long days here after.

Taking only a moment to add a bit of honey to it, I pressed it under her nose, hoping she was still lucid enough to register my words. "Judith, I know you're very tired right now, but we need you to drink this."

She examined the mug dazedly. "Do I have to?"

"Only if you don't want to be awake in pain all night."

A moment of silence passed while she considered those words before finally reaching over to tip the glass and swallow a bit of it. Despite her best efforts, a trail of the liquid drizzled down her chin and onto the bedding. Even if it was difficult for her, she still downed the entire mug.

"Great job, honey." Michonne told her, stroking back her hair tenderly. "You did so well. You're all done now so you can go ahead and rest till you feel better."

She was more than happy to comply and in mere seconds she was out like a light.

I shared a look with the woman across from me and understood the fear in that gaze immediately, my fellow parent looked as terrified and haggard from the ordeal as much as I was.

A moment of silence filled the room till I was alerted once more by another commotion outside. Without warning, the door burst opened and Tara stood there, looking flustered.

"Rick, I'm sorry, but there's a problem that needs you to sort out."

Seriously? What the fuck was going on this time?

I considered leaving the woman to sort it out herself so I could look after my child but I was quickly reminded that the Saviors must have still been here and were most likely the cause of the crap unfolding outside. With a glance towards Michonne and Tobin, it was obvious that there was nothing else that could be done for Judith anyways.

Still, that didn't mean I had to be happy about it, though.

"Son of a bitch! What is it this time?"

I stormed out in rage, following the woman as she led me back to the scene of where Aaron and Judith had first been received. The group of Saviors for today had gathered round and were in a heated argument with Aaron at the moment over something inside the cart. As I neared I spotted Carl and Rosita beside him, shouting back their own furious statements.

"I don't fucking care! You are not taking them! My hunting partner was mauled for these animals and wouldn't let us leave till we'd gotten both of them hauled on here and back home. So, if you think I'm just going to let you lazy, good-for-nothing, sons of a bitches take them, I'll kill at least two of you before you so much as take a step towards that cart!" At his warning, I saw a knife glint in his hand just then and it took both Rosita and Carl to keep him from leaping at Simon.

"What is going on?" I shouted over the struggle.

"Rick, you should work harder to keep your faggots from picking fights they can't win." Simon said.

This time it was Carl that nearly tackled the man, and as much as I would have liked to punch him out myself I still had the sense to at least stop my son.

"He wants a reason, Carl." I hissed, seeing through Simon's attempt to provoke us.

The man hummed at the words. "Smart move, Rick. Now that's why you're the leader, aren't you?"

"What are they wanting to take this time, Aaron?"

"They were looking to take our animals." He explained, gesturing to the cart. In the back was a huge white-tailed buck with enormous branching antlers, the largest I'd ever seen. Beside it was a brown bear that was so big it's back paws dangled out of the back of the cart. There were other crates of wild greens and mushrooms but I barely saw them next to the two kills.

"Judith was mauled for these animals and wouldn't let us leave until we'd brought them back here. She _worked_ and _bled_ for these and might just fucking die for these as well! And I know for a fucking fact that she would want them to feed _us_ —not _them_!"

I took in his words and stiffened, repeating what I thought he'd said to me. "So, she was injured and you waited to bring her back for some… deer steaks and a rug?"

Aaron's mouth snapped closed and before I could stop myself I launched forward and socked him in the jaw.

He fell to the ground, stunned and holding his cheek where I had struck him. When he looked back at me I glared at him in outrage. "Never put my child in danger like that again." I know it was uncalled for, but hitting him wasn't just because I was pissed. The Saviors were aching for a reason to beat him senseless for the insubordination. If I didn't put him back in place then they'd do it for me, and they'd make sure he couldn't talk back again for weeks.

From his place on the ground he looked stunned and outraged, looking very much like he wanted to say more on it but he wasn't given the chance as I turned away from him and faced Simon.

"We pay you half. You only get half. Pick one of them and go." I told them in a huff.

Simon looked disagreeable but said more about it as he and two others examined the carcasses. "Well now, which'll it be boys? Deer or bear?"

"I've never tried bear before. Always curious to try new things." One of them announced.

"It's probably been eating biters out there." A second added with a look of disgust. "I'm not touching the meat on that thing. You can eat it if you want but I'm not going near it."

"Maybe we get a nice rug out of it at the least." Simon suggested. "Negan wasn't here today, so he couldn't claim it. Too bad; bet he would have loved to been here to see that."

"He's still expecting his weekly delivery from the brat. What do we give him instead?" The other whispered to the others.

"Hey, gaylord." Simon shouted to Aaron. "Which one of these did your little princess take down?"

Aaron looked furious for the turn of events but answered all the same. "She took down the bear."

They seemed skeptical about those words and exchanged looks by the announcement. I was skeptical as well. I knew she was skilled, but her slingshot wasn't strong enough to bring such an animal down. When I saw the knife imprint in its eye though, it was harder to doubt his words. She was fairly skilled with a knife.

"Well I guess that answers that question." Simon blew. "Get that thing in the trucks. We don't have all day."

I bit back the urge to spit at the man. My blood was pounding in my ears and brought a steady ringing with it, drowning out all other sound. With enormous effort, I shoved it down.

It didn't matter. They could have the thing. Truthfully, they could have even really taken the deer. I only wanted my child to live. If it was what I had to pay to be sure she pulled through this, then I'd pay it.

I just wanted her to live, no matter what. She had to live.

* * *

 **Part 2 (Negan)**  
"Wait, back up. What happened again?" I asked in stunned disbelief. Simon already told me, but it struck me so completely off-guard that I had trouble processing his strange report.

"Your girl brought a bear down." He repeated. "A whole fucking brown bear this time, we've got it in the truck. Thing is huge. Fuckers were putting up a big fit over it, too. The girl got mauled bringing it back, apparently."

For the second time, I was caught off-guard. "…Mauled?"

"Oh yeah, her back was a real big mess when they pulled inside. She looked like she was on her last leg, too."

"Was it from a biter?" I asked. A quiet part of me hoped not. I didn't want the little girl dead just yet.

"Not quite sure how it happened. They wouldn't go into any detail over it when that prick Rick came back out. Faggot she hunts with was making a big deal about keeping it. Rick put him in his place, though."

Those last few words didn't hit me as forcefully as the first few. For a while I really believed that Judy may have been fucking bulletproof by how badass she was. Ten years old and she brought down her first bear, and Simon was right, that sucker was huge.

"Goddamned it," I hissed, angry that I'd had other less fucking interesting crap to sort out here and as a reward ended up losing out on something that awesome. The bastard that kept me occupied while all this was happening had just made things monumentally worse for himself thanks to this news. "I can't believe I fucking missed it. Skip one pickup from my favorite town and all the good stuff happens when I'm not there."

This wasn't how I wanted that kid to die. I enjoyed her while she was here, and true she was a little snot, but her bouts of aggression and her occasional sassy quip could be taken in good humor fairly easily. They were even adorable when I was in a good mood. I secretly hoped that her attack had more so come from the bear or another animal rather than a biter; a bear gave her a chance; a biter, and she was screwed.

If that were the case and Judy lived through her little mutilation, she'd get an awesome fucking scar from it and you could bet I was going to want to see it.

Aside from her dear daddy, I may have been her biggest fan. Still, Judy was human the same as every single one of us. The way she pushed herself it was probably by pure miracle she wasn't dead already. Testing fate by going out in the woods at her age, with no fucking supervision whatsoever; that was just begging for trouble. I sure hoped I was the worse person she would ever meet out there; others were not going to be so humane.

With the recent turn of events, it looked like providence seemed to have a way with catching up to everyone, eventually. Men died, women died and kids died every fucking day. Little Judy wasn't any different from them. Sure, she'd been amusing for the time she had been here but we were all living off of borrowed time, ultimately. The end of the fucking world was here and we all met our fates one way or another. The only thing we could really do was make sure we fought tooth and nail before punching the clock for good.

Still, it really would be a real shame if the brat died. There were times when I sort of fantasized about bringing her back here and make a fine soldier out of her. She definitely had the heart for one and I couldn't let that go to waste on a community like Alexandria. She'd just end up wasting her talents and strength on people who were doomed to die much sooner than the ones who were strong and fit for this new world. She was meant to live much, much longer.

Even so, I suppose she went out with a bang. Her final kill was certainly impressive. A bear rug was just what I needed and seemed like an ironic parting gift from her, in a way. I'd always think of her when I saw it.

As much as I wanted to shrug this measly death off as nothing, I couldn't seem to shake the thought of it. Couldn't really say why, though. I'd seen countless men, women and kids die right in front of my eyes. Spineless fucking weak-ass scared to death people, doing everything in their power to get themselves killed. I can't remember a single fucking name. Even among my own people, faces blur in my sight, all of them becoming one after a while and it's all just easier to see them as nothing particularly significant after that.

Judith didn't really become a person to me until that day in the woods when we tracked down that fucker Roger. I knew Rick had another brat, but she steered clear of me as often as she could and that hadn't interested me all that much. She was just another scared little kid in a sea of scared little kids. But it was there in the woods when I found out that she really wasn't. No… far from it.

Tyler dragged her out in our circle and she sprung to her feet with a look of fire that was completely identical to her father's.

Little Judith faced me down in that forest without so much as flinching. She knew what I could do to her—her dad would be a complete asshole if he hadn't let her know just how fucking ruthless I am—but that didn't so much as faze her, not until she heard me roar at least.

I learned a lot from her with that one encounter. She was a survivor, she was a badass, and she was ultimately fearless. Here it was, dead fucking night inside dead-infested woods, and she was strolling them as easily as she could stroll down a street in her town at noon. At that time of night, she should have been tucked away in bed, where it was safe as savings.

Not just that, but that kid was tiny! I bet I could break her neck with hardly needing to use a fraction of force for it. If she managed to attract any biters while she was wandering around out there, she would have been a goner, but she was still alive, even so.

Judy was able to get away from me _that_ night, but her escape was my fault. I took my eye off her for one moment and she took that tantalizing opportunity to scurry away like a sneaky little mouse. So then, I learned one more thing about her that night; she was slippery and would escape the single moment she was able to. Now I knew I could never make that mistake again.

During our next visit to Alexandria I asked around for her, but those dumbasses couldn't seem to keep track of their kids very well.

When Rick mentioned their fabled Elf and the gifts of things it left for them every now and then, the wheels in my head clicked and I was able to figure out her true identity in three seconds flat. So that's what it was, huh?

The kid had been doing this for years. Fuck, she was only ten and she'd been going out into the woods all on her fucking lonesome _for years!_ And if that weren't enough, but apparently her family knew nothing of her exploits in there. Which either meant they were blind-ass neglectful motherfuckers, or Judith was just that good a sneak.

Now she had my full attention.

Out of curiosity my next few visits I asked more about her around town.

Fat lot of good that did me.

* * *

 _Judith Grimes._ How do I even begin to describe Judith Grimes?

Pearl Anderson: Judith Grimes is a witch!

Dorothy Swanson: Stay away from that child! She's the spawn of hell and death!

Jimmy Richards: If you make her mad she'll hex you!

Abigail: She has a rare Tiffany beetle brooch and a grimorium verum which is a sort of really old spell book.

Peter Wagner: I hear she can change the color of her eyes whenever she wants. One day they look blue the next day they look green. It's weird.

Darla Wheeler: Okay that part is explainable. Peter is just colored-blind.

Peter Wagner: I am not! You've seen it. It's weird.

Darla Wheeler: It's the angle of the light and the time of day.

Mrs. Lakely: Judith Grimes is creative in making whatever disorder she can within the classroom. If she would apply that sort of enthusiasm into her schoolwork she wouldn't be so behind in her year. She could be very brilliant if she'd only put forth the effort.

Mrs. Byron: Don't listen to those rumors the kids throw around. She doesn't get along with very many of her peers. In all honesty that girl has a heart of gold. She's the one who brews up my medicine and I tell you, it works like a charm.

Negan: So, would you say she's a witch?

Mrs. Byron: Well… I can't say for certain. I mean she doesn't go around advertising it. I have a few suspicions that she's getting lessons or teachings from a mysterious stranger that lives out in the woods. There's a large scandal about some kind of elf that helped the town for a while and found things that no one else could find. She could be the elf, or she might _know_ the elf. I'm not quite sure.

Lizzie Pelzer: There's this rumor going around that Judith is somehow the elf that's been helping us for years, but I'm pretty sure she's not.

Negan: Why not?

Lizzie Pelzer: _Come on_. Her fuse is so short the majority of that stuff should have been laced with poisons and irritants. There's no way. She's no helpful elf—more like a wicked witch.

Boxy Winslow: I hear she's been going out in the woods by herself since she started walking. She finds things with magic and divination and has this dowsing rod thing-a-ma-jig that she can enchant to help her find stuff.

Ryan Mello: Her favorite book is the Art of War by Chuck Norris.

Negan: Chuck Norris didn't write the art of war.

Ryan Mello: The version she has he did.

Arty Peterson: She can see ghosts.

Leo McGinnis: I don't think she likes the school teacher very much. In class, I caught on fire one time during an experiment and I raised my hand to tell Mrs. Lakely and the old lady totally panicked, and before she could get the fire extinguisher Judith smothered the flames with my coat. Then Judith turned to her and said, "Are you even trying?" She got detention for that.

Abigail Torres: One time she met a pack of wolves in the woods and they told her she was pretty.

Dora Wheeler: One time she punched me in the face. It was awesome!

* * *

Never, in my entire life, have I met so many people who were more divided in their opinions about a little kid.

In the end, I ended up nowhere, with more questions than answers, after all that. Just what the hell was this kid? It seemed like no one, not even in her town, knew those answers. I turned to her family after that, but those bastards only gave me the bare minimum: She was born before they all came to Alexandria, her mama died in childbirth, and Carl shot her so she wouldn't come back.

Other than that, nothing.

Fucking assholes. I wanted some goddamned answers but they weren't biting. I tried asking Daryl what he knew about her, but the frigid dick only threw me his signature dirty look—which was a bit more sour than usual—and became all tight-lipped once again.

It looked like I'd need to get it all from the horse's mouth if I was going to get anywhere, but the kid was almost always never there whenever I came a calling. Sure, I started out more interested in her daddy and big brother, but they started to bore me once I met Judy. After three years I had all I wanted from them, now I wanted a new distraction, and I seemed to find an endless wealth of interest in dear little Miss Judy.

The day she killed my girl Lucille… _it still stings to talk about it_. I sometimes look round at Judy and all I want to do is tear her insubordinate fucking head right off of her shoulders for it! I should have killed someone, maybe a few people from her town to get back at that little tramp, but despite the bloodthirst pounding through me day after day, it had still been spellbinding what she'd done.

The trade, the toss, and the echoing TWANG while her thorny barbed wire unraveled like silky hair released from a bun; it had stunned me. And when the little girl looked back at me again, there was something in her face, something new and exciting and different. There had been the smallest of whispers in my ear, and for a moment it was like Lucille where at my side again.

"Stay your hand." She told me.

I didn't need a fucking bat to cherish my girl. She wasn't that bat, she was more than it. She had always been more than it—so much more! It wasn't a piece of fucking wood that protected me all those years. It was my own strength and her spirit living inside of me that had done it; guiding me, protecting me, strengthening me into what I am today.

I still needed to make her pay, though, and Judy proved to be a hard, little worker, finding me good shit at every visit. And she was entertaining, always doing what was least expected and catching me by surprise.

I felt a little bad for her, being Rick's kid and all. He obviously didn't understand her too well, nor was he employing her talents to their full potential. He was going to end up ruining her, just the way he'd done his son. If she were mine… boy the plans I could make for her.

I hate suspense. Waiting around to see if the brat was going to snuff it wasn't that exciting, nor did I enjoy it one bit.

I wanted answers, I wanted to know if she was going to die or not, and I really wanted to see that mess on her back. Only problem was we just made a trip there. I couldn't very well drop by unannounced twice in two days without a reason, and dropping by just to see how she was doing sounded too much like I cared. I also couldn't make it look like I cared too much about the brat that shattered the symbol of their subservience. I had my reputation to maintain after all. Plus, gas was running low these days. Had to save it for the real necessities like the weekly pickups and on dire occasions.

Besides which, if the wounds were fatal there wasn't much left to be done by now.

Whatever was going to happen to her, happened.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Alright so I know I said I was going to wait and see if I could get a few more reviews for the last chapter before I posted this one, but I was so excited about it that I just couldn't wait. Just so you know this'll probably be the last time I post something from another character's POV. I just had this idea in my head and before I knew it I'd written it all down. I was planning on keeping this whole story strictly in Judith's POV and maybe post this particular chapter with the drabbles I was thinking of doing, but there's still work that needs to be done for those and I wanted to get this out with the last chapter before it was too late.**

 **Guys, your reviews are really, really appreciated. So, if you get the chance definitely leave a comment and tell me what you think of the story so far. And if you have ideas for the drabbles I'm collecting I'd love to hear your suggestions.**

 **Luv, ya!**


	25. Inner Demons

**Chapter 25  
Inner Demons**  
I remember having the strangest of dreams while I was recovering. Most of them were terrifying and the few that weren't were weird and made little to no sense. My body seemed to go through sensations of sweltering heat one moment before turning drastically to freezing cold. I remember seeing faces of people I didn't know flitting through my field of vision, sometimes speaking incoherently like I were listening to them from underwater.

Once or twice I saw Glenn. He was back to his monstrous vengeful darkness and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were once again the black he had had back in my room those few weeks ago. I shut my eyes at the sight of him, breathing hard and praying he would be gone the next time I opened them. The next time they opened to light, he had slipped away just as I prayed he would and the room was safe once again, but not for long.

I didn't know how I got up into a tower but all at once I was staring out a wide opened window. The sky was dark and thunder shook the foundation of the concrete walls. My mind told me I had climbed up there, though I didn't remember exactly how I got up there. I thought I could faintly remember climbing up a hill though, not a tower. I turned around the small room and felt it shake dangerously as the storm raged outside.

Instinctively I knew I had to get out of here. The tower was going to fall, I just knew it. I stepped towards the window, feeling the wind whip my hair around in every direction. It made sense that I should have been able to climb down just as I climbed up but when I looked down I realized there was no way to do that. The foundation was made of smooth concrete with no footholds. It was entirely impossible to climb down no matter how I approached it. Not only that but it seemed hopelessly tall; nearly a mile up. I couldn't even see the bottom.

What could I do? I was going to die! The tower was going to crumble away and I was going to die! Feeling the sensations of vertigo take hold of every one of my senses, I gripped the windowsill and lowered to the floor, staying as close to the ground as I could possibly be.

"I want to be on the ground! I don't want to fall!" I thought over and over again.

There had been no noise, but out of nowhere I suddenly felt the presence of someone else at my back. In the far corner of the little room I looked to see the silhouette of a man right across from me. I pressed against the opposite end, hoping to be as far from him as I could be without plummeting to my death. I wasn't sure who this man was, but two things I was sure about him was one: he was an enemy and two: he was someone I knew.

I squinted trying to see if maybe I could recognize the shape of his outline, but all I could tell really was that he was most definitely a man.

He spoke something and it took me a moment to realize what he was saying.

"Try not to fall."

With those words, the tower shook again and I felt my heart pounding in my ribs, doing everything in my power not to topple out of the window. When he had spoken I thought I recognized the voice, but when it finally clicked I cringed in horror. At first, I assumed this was Negan coming to mock me as I held on for dear life or it was a complete stranger, here to murder me in cold blood. And if not that there was only one other person I felt it could possibly be.

He told me once more to be careful and from the sound of his voice I recognized him at last.

It had to be Shane then.

Here he was to examine me or make me feel more under the microscope as he tried to convince me Rick was the enemy who had killed my real father in cold blood. It would make sense for him to show up like this. Never had I ever seen his face. I only ever saw his shadow.

"Go away!" I cried. "I don't want you here! I don't care what you say, alright! So, keep your trap shut and leave me alone already!"

"You need help."

"Not from you."

"You'll die."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"So what! Just stop it, already! You're not my dad, okay! So just leave me alone!"

With those words, Shane's outline seemed to sink back into the stone and the tangible mass was reduced to just a shadow once again.

But just as he vanished, the tower simultaneously gave a hideous groan and shook as if it were alive, trying to rid itself of a bug that had landed on it. My hands scraped over the stone but the sweat from them made it too slippery and tossed me out into the open air. I plummeted down inky darkness till the terror of it jolted me awake at last.

Every sense felt like it was in its own fog. It felt like my head was inside a drum and someone kept beating it over and over again, making my ears ring and intensifying the headache throbbing through my brain. Even through the haze I was still somewhat aware of another presence.

There was a hand stroking back my hair while something wet like a cloth pressed against my sweating neck and forehead. I was still on my stomach and my back was enflamed worse than ever before. My mouth was dry as dust and I was panting, feeling vulnerable and terrified.

"Who's there?" I asked in a shaky voice, unable to move an inch from my position. My throat felt raw and I longed for something to sooth the burn.

"It's just me, honey." A familiar voice answered back.

I breathed easy at the sound of my father's voice, eased by the thought that there was nothing in this world that could hurt me with him watching.

"Is there some water?" I asked with a raspy voice. A cup was instantly produced and I sipped carefully, my thirst sated but barely. In the back of my mind I was somewhat aware that I was a bit delirious when I spoke again, but the nightmare I'd just experienced lingered thick over me, causing my heart to race as I tried to find my dad's hand. He took mine and held it, rubbing it gently to sooth whatever terror I'd been lingering in. "I'm… I'm not in that tower, am I?"

"No. There's no tower, you're in the infirmary right now. You're safe."

My eyelids pulled apart and I worked onto my elbows, looking around wildly with growing anxiety as I searched around the room, finding monsters in the shadows that the flickering candles made.

Dad's hands gently tried to coax me back in the bed. "Judith, don't try to get up. Lay back down, you're still not well."

Sweat slid from my brow while I curled back up, gripping the blankets for added protection, even if I was boiling under them.

"I was in the tower," I breathed, more sweat growing on the back of my neck and forehead. "There was lightning everywhere and it was going to fall over."

"It's alright. You're not in a tower, you're home in town."

I continued to babble as his hand held mine. "It's the worst card. It's worse than the devil card or even death… it foretells disaster."

"Judith, it was just a dream."

I barely heard him though as my mind snapped to another lingering fear. "Where's Shane? He isn't here, is he?"

"Sh-Shane?"

"I don't want him here!" I announced through the haze of my fever. "Make sure he doesn't come back! I hate him, Dad."

"A-alright. I promise, Shane's not here right now. It's just you and me at the moment. You just try to get some rest now, alright."

My body relaxed, but I didn't slip back to sleep just yet. "He's such a liar. I want him to leave me alone already, but he's just won't go! I tried to banish him the way I did the Governor. He kept haunting Michonne, giving her all those nightmares. Do you remember that?"

"Uh… a little, I guess."

"I **made** him leave. He was no good to anyone and he was a liar. Vanessa showed me how to banish him and it made him go away for good. His spirit was weak so it was easy. Shane is harder, though. I can't get rid of him. He won't leave."

"D-don't talk anymore, Judith. You really need to rest so you can heal. We'll talk more once you're better."

"I don't want to sleep. He's there, every time I shut my eyes. I don't know what to do."

"Judith," the way he said my name made me focus on his expression for the first time. In it I saw a determined readied expression, like he was staring down a fight that he knew he was going to win. It wasn't with me, but someone out to do me harm. He held my gaze as he continued determinedly. "There is nothing that Shane can do to get you. He's dead. In every meaning of the word. He can't hurt anyone. I promise."

As an added reassurance, he stroked back my sweating bangs and squeezed my hand comfortingly.

With those final words, there was a peace that swept through me. I knew better than to ever doubt my father. If he made a promise about something, he did not make it lightly. I knew he would move heaven and hell to make sure he always kept his promises and especially the ones he made to his kids.

So, with him watching carefully over me, my body relaxed once again and lied inside the covers to sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: A short chapter today. Not sure if I'm going to post the next one just yet. There are still some kinks that I'm working out with it, but if you can definitely leave a comment and I might just be encouraged enough to post how the news of Judith's immunity is received by her dad once she's lucid again.**


	26. The Girl Who Lived

**Chapter 26  
The Girl Who Lived  
**I woke on my stomach, my face pressed into the pillow which was damp from the puddle of drool trailing from my mouth. I was drained and in pain, especially on my back where it felt as though I had been lashed with a whip fifty or so times. My mouth was dry as flour with my tong a useless wad of dough, trying fruitlessly to wet it with saliva.

I knew I was dehydrated and in need of something wet to relieve this horrible dryness as soon as I could get it. I tried to sit up, thinking that maybe there was water somewhere but it hurt near too much to bear and I fell back down before I'd lifted up too far. With nothing left I decided to focus on my surroundings, limiting my movement the best I could. I saw a side table and recognized the white walls of the infirmary. There were also things on the table—colorful things. I squinted and saw an array of cards, flowers and little boxes wrapped in bows or stuffed in gift bags.

My curiosity won out over the pain and I glanced around at this strange sight in utter astonishment. There were more on the other table and at the foot of the bed. "What is all this?"

"Just some get-well presents from your friends and admirers." I looked over my shoulder to find Michonne coming in the room at that time, crossing the distance rapidly when she saw me move. Gently, she pushed me back into the softness of the bed. "You need to keep your movement limited. You were mauled pretty badly."

Despite her words, I wanted to see if I could turn over at the least. My back was still sore, but much better from a few days ago. I made it to my back successfully and sat up, finding a better view at the new angle.

"Is there some water anywhere?"

Michonne produced a glass a moment later. The water was so sweet but Michonne insisted I take it slow so I wouldn't get sick.

"How long have I been here?"

"A few days." She said simply. "You've been running a pretty severe fever and have gone in and out of consciousness quite a lot. I relieved your dad about four hours ago to let him get some rest. He's refused to leave your side till now."

My eyes turned to the numerous cards and flowers crowding the tables. "Why do I have admirers?"

Michonne only smiled. "It's not every ten-year old who can best a full-grown bear and live to tell the tale then still insist on bringing it back to feed your family. I guess your strength might have inspired some people."

"That's dumb." I declared in a huff. "I don't do anything a regular adult doesn't do every day."

"Don't do that, Judith." She said sharply. "Don't sell yourself short. You do much more than anyone expects you to do while you're still only a child, and you've been doing it for years right under everyone's nose. You don't have to refuse help or be so modest all the time. You can accept gifts, too."

I leaned into the pillows, glumly. "I guess I just… I don't want to be selfish, is all."

"No one could ever say you were ever that." She said, gazing at me softly.

Guilt tore at my gut by her words and my mind went to all the secret, selfish things I kept hidden from everyone. The island, practicing wicca, my friend John, my teacher Vanessa and the strange power I had over the walkers.

At the thought of my power my memory clicked and I recalled just then that Aaron had seen it. He'd witnessed it first hand in its full potential as I led our horse and cart through that mob of flesh eaters. There was no doubt that he was probably telling my dad about it right now if he hadn't already. In a few hours, the town would know everything and I'd be exposed to all of it. They'd all probably scramble to get these presents back when they learned the extent of my betrayal.

I lifted up on my elbows in worry. "Did—did A-Aaron tell everyone what happened?"

"He said that you two were attacked by a bear, that it mauled you before you managed to kill it and that you refused to come back home and have the wound properly looked at before you got it onto the cart. Your Dad is going to be giving you a mouthful for that."

She said nothing about the walkers, so maybe Aaron hadn't gotten around to telling them after all. "Why aren't _you_ giving me a mouthful?" I asked curiously. "Do you think it was stupid to not come back right away?"

Her face remained entirely stoic as she looked back at me. "I think you were doing what you believed was right. You had everyone's best interest in mind, but clearly you're quite careless when concerning your own wellbeing." Then her expression changed into something exasperated. "Honestly, Judith, you _need_ to take better care of yourself. Stop undervaluing your life. Your death or pain holds no value to _anyone_. And if you push yourself too much you're going to not just kill yourself but you'll kill your dad as well. Is that what you want?"

"No." I said, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tight to me. Her words hit close to home because I knew without a doubt that me dying would be among one of the most painful things my father would ever endure and I just couldn't do that to him.

She leaned forward and brushed back my hair, trying to be a bit gentler this time. "Then start exercising some caution for a change. Your life is much more valuable than your death."

I sighed by those words. As much as I disliked it, she had a point. I was careless and someday it was going to get more than just me in trouble. What was I going to do?

"So… what did the Saviors take this time?" I asked, vaguely remembering entering the gate and hearing the voices of several of that vulture group standing around as they carried me to the infirmary.

Michonne glared. "The usual: food, supplies, dignity."

"Oh, we've still got at least one of those." I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

She smiled slightly by my small joke. Then I grew serious again.

"Did they take the deer and bear?"

"Your dad insisted they could only take one of them. Half is what we pay them so half is what they get."

"So, was Negan here?" It felt a bit exposing if I were to find out he'd seen me at my frailest. I only wanted him to see me strong. Showing weaknesses around him destroyed whatever strength I tried to maintain in his eyes. I did not want my enemies to see me vulnerable ever!

"No. I'm afraid he was absent for your most vulnerable moment."

"Good."

"They did take the bear, though." Michonne confirmed grimly.

I was quiet for a while, emotions rolling through me by the news. Then I made her jump.

"Well jokes on them then!" I chuckled smugly, trying to cheer her up. "Bear meat tastes like whatever it was eating and I'm pretty sure most of that thing's diet was dead people."

Michonne smirked. "Yep. This time of year, if that thing doesn't taste like rot, it'll taste like fish _and_ rot."

"Plus, it had more fat than meat on it, anyways." I announced punching the air triumphantly. "I'd take a sole vegetarian over a questionable omnivore any day. So, suck it, Saviors!"

Michonne nodded, pleased to see my energy returning. "Still… the hide was very beautiful. We could have at least gotten a handsome blanket from it."

"I guess… but the buck has a nice hide, too. Just not as soft." I was a little disappointed. It would have been a cool souvenir to keep. Only ten years old and I already brought down my first bear.

She seemed to know what I was thinking and smiled. "Won't that be a story for the grandchildren someday?"

"No grandchildren for me." I announced boldly. "I'm going to stay young forever and fight monsters and bears and outlaws for my whole life and let my hair flow in the breeze as I launch throwing knives into the sunset!"

She laughed. "Well you can always do both."

The door opened just then and Carl and Enid walked in.

"Oh, thank goodness," He breathed at the sight of my living form. "You're alive."

"I guess." I shrugged, throwing my arm over my eyes dramatically. "Can't really be dead if you're wracked with superlative agony."

"I feel like that's an oxymoron."

" _You're_ a moron!" I said teasingly.

"Your face is a moron!"

"Your brain is a moron!"

"You both are morons!" Enid intervened. We all laughed and the two of them took a seat on the remaining chairs in the room.

"So, are you going to open your presents or what?" Carl asked, eyeing the gifts around the room.

I felt a bit uneasy about it. "Well… I was sort of… waiting."

"For what?" Carl asked skeptically.

"Um…" I couldn't think of an appropriate answer. "…Christmas?"

"Come on. Open them."

"Later alright." I decided finally.

He looked like he wanted to persist but closed his mouth with it. "Alright. Your presents, your choice."

In all honesty, I wanted to wait until after the news bomb was dropped. If they wanted to take their gifts back after they heard, it was only decent to let them.

"So… how's everyone doing?" I asked awkwardly.

"Well, better than you." Enid said.

"Did… did dad say anything about it."

They exchanged a quick glance. "Well… your dad was pretty worried." Enid disclosed.

"Understatement." Carl announced. "He was straight up pissed. That asshole Simon made everything worse, like he always does. Took me and Rosita to keep Aaron from tackling that sack of rubber dicks to the ground. Can't remember why we stopped him."

"Language." Michonne lectured.

"Mom, I'm twenty." Carl pointed out.

"And Judith is ten."

"Oh, please. I've heard names worse than that from Bianca Swan. I _think_ names worse than that for Negan all the time."

Enid perked with amusement. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"No."

Despite Michonne's insistence I was already elaborating. "Well… the first time I ever talked with him I called him a uh…"

"A what?"

"…An ignorant, uneducated, self-assured, ass-butt."

The room became very quiet. Then everyone burst into laughter at the same time.

"No, you didn't." Carl said.

"I did."

"Ass-butt? Seriously?"

"Come on. You gotta be pulling our legs."

"Honest, I did. I really said that. And you _know_ I'd say something like that, anyways."

"Well what did he do?"

I huffed indignantly. The memory of it still grated on my nerves. "He laughed at me. He thought I was being cute. I am **never** cute. _You_ know I'm never cute. Tell me I'm never cute."

"You are never cute." They all said together.

"Exactly! I am never cute."

They said nothing but nodded in agreement and there was the horrible sensation that told me they were only humoring me. They all thought I was being cute right now, and it was worse than Negan saying it, because it meant… they didn't really respect me. Maybe that was my real mission in all this. Maybe my selfless crusade was in some way just me selfishly trying to earn their respect. Was that it?

We talked some more, the four of us, till Michonne decided it was best to find Dad and let him know I was awake and lucid. She only waited so long to give him a bit more time to sleep and rest. No doubt he would be back shortly but just as she was going out, Aaron came in.

I looked at him and my heartbeat quickened. Our eyes locked and I knew what he was thinking with that single look. He walked in and came up to the bed, speaking as a friend.

"Hey, it's good to see you're awake. How do you feel?"

"Better. Much better. I've had some more bark tea and it's helped a little."

He nodded but then turned to Enid and Carl. "Guys, would it be okay if I talked with Judith alone for a minute?"

They didn't seem to think much of it. He was my hunting partner so they predicted he probably wanted to go over what happened out there concerning my wound. They weren't wrong but they weren't entirely right either. Aaron waited till the door had closed before dropping into a seat and leaning towards me, speaking low and carefully as if he expected spies to overhear us.

"Okay I've been holding this in for three days and now that I can finally get it out... WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED BACK THERE?!"

His reaction was just as I expected but I was still nervous by his sharpness. "Okay, I-I can s-see you're a bit… surprised."

"Surprised? Oh, sure you can call it surprise—if it's a birthday party!" He hissed in disbelief. "Surprise is an understatement. I am beyond surprised, Judith. What you did went beyond anything anyone has ever seen since this dystopia began. How the fuck did you do that?"

I looked down at my hands. "I—I don't know how or why it happens; why I can do this. I don't understand any more than you. They just… don't like me."

There was an unbearable moment of silence.

"I told your father." He announced immediately. With his confirmation, a solid rock dropped in my stomach and I panicked inwardly. On the outside, I tried to make it look like I was holding it together.

"And did… did you tell anyone else?"

"We talked it over and as far as I know it's just the two of us who knows." Then he leaned forward and his face was filled with urgency. "We want to keep this as secret as we possibly can. Whatever you can do, Judith, it's what everyone wants and you know what people will do to get what they want."

"Of course I do." I responded, my mind going to the Wolves and the Saviors. "Why do you think I kept it secret from everyone for so long?"

His expression remained stoic. "Your father is going to come in and talk to you. I'm not sure if he totally believes me so he'll probably question you."

"Are you worried about what I'll say?"

"No." He said after a moment to consider, but I wasn't sure if he was being honest.

"What was his reaction when you told him?"

His mouth opened to respond but before he could answer the door opened and my dad walked in. He sighed in relief the moment his eyes fell on me and he immediately crossed the room to embrace me carefully.

"Thank goodness you're alright," he said.

"Yeah… I'm okay."

I felt his arms stiffen and his voice dropped as he leaned back to look at me. His face betrayed utter disappointment. "Aaron told me everything."

I looked between Aaron and my dad for more answers, but they had fewer than I did. Even while he knew the truth now, he still wanted me to verify the story that Aaron had told him while we were coming back. The deer and bear were easy to tell but when I reached the part with the walker herd I hesitated and my voice became shaky and stuttered.

Finally, finally it was done. What I'd been fearing for the better part of three years was finally brought to light before him.

He sat very still on the edge of my bed for a long moment before he moved. My stomach clenched as I prepared for his words. "Why didn't you tell us, Judith?"

I had to look away from his piercing blue eyes. They looked at me as if looking into my very soul. There were a lot of reasons why I never told them, but for some unknown explanation my discomfort and trepidation was so profound that I couldn't remember any of them in his presence. "I-I don't know."

He couldn't help the hurt that crossed his face and that expression seemed far worse than if he'd been furious with me. "I'm very disappointed in you, Judith. After Tobin takes a look at you and once you can walk again, you and I are going to need to have a serious talk, and then we're taking you to the Hilltop."

"Why? What for?" My heart leapt in my throat at the mention of it and my eyes watered fearfully. "You're… you're not sending me away, are you?"

"No, of course not. We want their doctor to have a look at you. Maybe there's a way we can find out why you're like this."

I was quiet by that for a long painful moment as I gazed down at my hands regretfully. "D—do you think there's something wrong with me, Dad?"

"No." He told me, "I hope there isn't at least. But maybe there's something wrong with the rest of us."

I couldn't offer up any argument that would have convinced him otherwise. It didn't feel wise to even try. I had hidden and lied to him consistently for over three years and I knew he was only exercising so much patience already because I was his child. Then again, maybe that was reason enough to be harder on me.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I'm very glad people are apparently enjoying this story. It's very comforting to know how eager you all are for the next chapter as soon as possible and I appreciate the time you take to write something down. It'd be even more encouraging if I was able to know what you liked about it, where you think I could improve, and why you think that. I want to keep giving you guys great chapters and if there's anything you guys want to discuss or suggest I am opened to your input.**


	27. Golden Blood

**Chapter 27  
Golden Blood  
**It only took another day for me to start walking again and as soon as I was on my feet, Dad and Aaron were on the road. We were accompanied by Rosita, Carl, and Tara who were escorting the party as extra muscle. Michonne would stay behind to watch over Alexandria. I wasn't totally sure if any of them, besides Aaron, knew the actual reason for this venture. Dad might've just told them that it was a supply run and a medical checkup for me to be sure my stitches were healing alright. They didn't question it and didn't seem all that concerned or behaved any differently.

We rode horses there and ran into only a few walkers which were easy to handle on our way. Once there, the others went about trading and haggling with our allies while dad took me to the infirmary.

Hilltop had one of the few formally practiced doctors we knew about. Doctor Carson was a real doctor with a degree and an actual license back when the world was alive and thriving. Yeah, he was the real deal.

While I waited in the exam room, Dad took the doctor aside to tell him the truth of this visit along with the full magnitude of it. Before all of that though, he swore the doctor to secrecy and to uphold the Physician's Oath he took when he first graduated from medical school. Only then did Dad finally tell him the truth about this visit. I could tell he was nervous about it. We weren't one hundred percent sure we were able to trust this doctor, but Jesus trusted him and as the leader of Hilltop, we could trust Jesus.

When Dad and Doctor Carson returned there was an expression of disbelief on his face. "And you're sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Alright, well I'm going to run some tests and see what I can come up with."

The first thing he did was check the stitches on my back to be sure they were healing correctly. After a long, tiring inspection, he rewrapped my back and got down to business. The next thing he did was a check up on me. I had never had a regular checkup before and I was wary about what all those peculiar instruments were for, like the strange metal thing connected to two earphones he wore around his neck, or the odd hammer-like thing he knocked against my knee, or the Velcro band he wrapped around my upper arm and pumped up with air.

What was the point of it all? Like the light shining in my eyes and ears? Or when he asked me to open my mouth and he stuck a flat piece of wood inside to lay my tongue flat? I didn't like it. Not one bit. His poking and prodding seemed… invasive.

Towards the end of it all, he measured me, weighed me, tested how long I could hold my breath, and performed about a dozen other things I don't even remember. At last we were winding down to the final moments of the checkup.

I lied back as he took a blood sample from me. The sight of my own blood draining into a syringe made me wince and look away, making me feel a bit queasy. Thankfully, though, it only lasted a moment. He would probably do countless tests with the sample, experimenting with dead blood cells from walkers and living cells from other people and on and on.

Dad and I actually weren't all that needed and we were excused to meet up with other people. Rosita was busy speaking with Earl the blacksmith, while Carl caught up with Maggie and little Hershel. He was so big now. Even bigger than Luis back home and we all sat around a kitchen table talking and passing back anecdotes while we waited. We even played a few board games to pass the time. It was a rare surreal moment when I could just relax with my family.

We had dinner in Maggie's house and I ate ravenously. I needed to build up my strength, and as I bit into the grilled cheese sandwich and chicken chili, I felt it gradually returning to me.

We spent the night at Hilltop, divided within the large house and inside the trailers. Carl, Dad and I all stayed with Maggie and little Hershel, while the rest, bunked in other places. I shared a bed with Carl while Dad spread out on the floor in a sleeping bag.

The next day went by without much upset but around noon we all suddenly turned towards the window as a commotion broke out towards the gate. My heart was in my throat, fearing Saviors or an attack, but I calmed quickly. It looked like a hunting party was returning just then only one of the men was limping against another and there were shouts about needing the doctor. Maggie got up to see what she could do but the rest of us from Alexandria stayed in our spots.

"It doesn't concern us." Dad announced, turning away. "Leave it be."

Despite his insistence, I was concerned all the same and stayed at the window to watch as they carried the man into the infirmary.

After about ten minutes the doctor burst into the trailer and looked towards us.

"What happened?" My dad asked, wondering why the doctor decided to involve us by entering the room. "What's going on?"

"There was an accident. One of our people, David, was out hunting and there was an attack from roamers. They were able to get away but he fell on a knife. There was a lot of blood loss and I need to give him a transfusion. I saw that Judith's blood type was O-negative and was wondering if she wouldn't mind giving a donation."

My instincts to help another person kicked in immediately and I rose to my feet without a word. "Of course. Whatever you need."

But my dad began to stand as well at the mention. "Judith is still recovering. If you need blood I'd much rather…"

"Great thank you very much," The doctor cut him off before he could say more, his hand was on my back and he was steering me towards the door before another word could be said.

I spread out on a bed, watching silently as a needle was inserted in my vein and a long string of red flowed out. Only it seemed to enter in an odd machine that filtered it in two separate bags. One was full of red and the other was the same yellow I strangely mistook to be urine for some bizarre reason.

"What is that?" I said with mixed disgust. "It looks like pee."

"It's not pee. That's a plasma machine." The doctor announced, watching it filter in with me.

"I thought you needed blood."

"I do and it's still blood, it's just sorting the red blood cells from the plasma that's in your blood."

"Oh, so you only need the red blood cells then?"

"Actually, I really only need your plasma. What I'll do is divide the plasma from your blood to use on the patient next door and then I'll transfer the red cells back into you."

"Oh… why do you only need the plasma?"

"Because you're a very small person and I don't want to take too much from you so we'll see how this works for now."

"Well," I said slyly, "I may be small, but I can still wrestle a bear into submission. You have seen the stitches on my back, have you not?"

He smirked. "Yes, you most certainly can."

I went quiet after that, my heart rate increasing and my head getting dizzy the more I watched the red and yellow bags fill. When they were both barely half full he severed the yellow bag and pressed a few buttons on the machine which filtered the red cells back into my arm. Just then, a woman came in bearing a tray of food.

Carson smiled to her and she smiled back. "Yes, thank you, Birdy." Then he turned to me and patted my leg with assurance. "You just sit back and have a snack, alright. You're done for the day. Thank you for your donation." He left with the yellow bag and I was able to lean back and eat a hardboiled egg with some cheese and cider.

* * *

We stayed another night with the doctor's insistence. All he would tell my father, was that he was in the middle of something important concerning my case and wanted the bit of time to examine a few more things. We complied and divided up the same as we did the first night, but we would still need to be gone early in the morning.

I slept on my stomach next to Carl, yet sometime in the night I thought I heard something that sounded like an excited yip from a dog. It was so sudden, though and so far away that I wasn't sure if that's what it really was.

When we woke the next day we all gathered round the small foldout table and shared breakfast in the small kitchenette. Just then out of nowhere the door burst opened and Doctor Carson stood in the doorway. He looked beside himself with excitement. Rather than go into detail for the reason behind it, he only looked towards Dad.

"Rick, I need to speak with you right now!"

Confused, he got up and followed the doctor out. My eyes narrowed at their backs and I excused myself to use the bathroom in the back of the trailer. Unbeknownst to them, I crawled through the small window and followed my dad and the doctor back to the med trailer where I climbed atop the roof and used the ceiling hatch to eavesdrop.

"I haven't slept all night." Doctor Carson said wide-eyed and partly crazed.

"What is it?" My father asked in concern and confusion.

"I think… this is so crazy." His hand came up and threaded through his graying hair as if what he was about to say was too crazy to be true. My stomach twisted in knots at the suspense. "I'm not sure if I even believe it myself."

"What is it?" My father persisted.

"Yesterday… when Tom and David got back from hunting, he didn't _just_ have a knife wound." He tried to explain to my father. "He was bit over his left shoulder blade."

"Why are you telling me this? Is he dead?"

The doctor looked entirely animated as he paced around the room. "He's not dead."

"So, the fever hasn't run its full course?"

But the doctor only shook his head with his question.

"David had a fever, but now he doesn't."

I shared my dad's confusion. A bite led to a fever and the fever usually led to death. It was a bit different for everyone and depending on the severity of how bad a person was bitten the fever could take a few hours to as much as a whole day or two.

"I don't think I understand. You're telling me that… he lived? That's not possible."

"That's what I thought. But while I was examining your daughter's blood sample I started running some tests and… it's insane. It shouldn't be fucking possible!" He all but shrieked the last part, totally and utterly unhinged by some wild discovery he had made.

"You didn't need a blood transfusion from her, did you?" My dad seemed to realize.

"I'm just going to come out as say it; I think… I think the cure is in her plasma."

My father didn't move and neither did I, both of us probably not quite processing his words for the longest time.

"The cure?!"

My eyes went wide and I stared at the tops of their heads in disbelief.

No. Way.

"I know that sounds insane, but look at this." He dropped into a rolling chair and turned to a microscope. "When I tested her blood with dead cells collected from roamers, her antibodies seemed to chase the dead cells. Normally the dead ones are supposed to destroy regular living cells, but they're fleeing from hers like her body creates some kind of super-antibodies that can counteract them. I'm not sure if it's possible or not but I think… I think your daughter could very well be the answer to all this."

My dad seemed at a loss for words. "How… how is that possible?"

"I don't know. I have no idea how." He stared at the notes and tools strewn over the desk and he didn't move for a moment as he thought. When he did at last, he spoke carefully. "It could be nothing, but is there any reason to believe this isn't natural. Was Judith ever subjected to testing or experiments?"

Dad looked baffled. "What? No. No, she was born after it all."

"Well, think!" Carson insisted. "Could there be any instance in which Judith was given special treatment or medication."

"No. Of course not. We had nothing those first few years. We lived in an old prison. She never even got her proper shots."

"You said when you first met Eugene and Rosita they were on their way to Washington to fix all this."

"Yeah but that was a con. Eugene never even worked with anyone on such a project."

I saw Doctor Carson's eyes narrow. "Was there anything—anything at all that might be linked to all this? What can you tell me about her birth? Was there anything unusual about it?"

"Unusual?! Of course, it was unusual! There was no doctor, no medication, no nothing. Her mother was dead before she even came into this…" Dad trailed off and there seemed to be something in his face with those words.

Doctor Carson looked at him. "You… you think that could have something to do with it? That the environments in which she was born in might have played a part in her… condition?"

"I… I don't know…"

"Are you sure you had no contact or discussion with anyone like a scientist or a researcher connected to all this madness?"

My dad seemed to freeze at the mention of it and I watched Doctor Carson lean towards him curiously.

"When… when this all began my group and I took shelter in a research lab—a CDC belonging to this scientist. His name was Jenner. He studied airborne pathogens and diseases and he worked next to the people that started all this. He explained how we were all infected, that he was trying to develop a cure for it all, but he never could. We saw how the process happened inside a human brain. His lab was on lockdown and was going to explode-it was a security measure. We were able to escape but he chose to die. Before we left though, he gave us medicinal supplies to help us. I'm not sure if he did anything to it all but there were pregnancy pills with them—two whole bottles of them and my wife…" he trailed off at the memory of it all.

Doctor Carson was speechless. "And you think the pregnancy pills might've been more than just simple vitamins?"

"I'm not sure. It just doesn't seem real. Does that even make sense?"

"I couldn't say. I'd have to see the bottles and pills for myself. But who can really say."

"All this seems far too insane to believe." Dad lowered into a chair trying to find his semblance once again. "This sounds so... science fiction. Too strange and ironic and... I don't know the word?"

"Coincidental?"

Dad nodded at Carson's suggestion.

"Believe me, I understand. But it's not entirely impossible, I know it seems that way. I mean eleven years ago none of us would have believed the dead could ever walk, and now look. If it'll help you understand easier, have you ever heard of a man called James Harrison?"

"The name sounds familiar, but he's probably not the same man I'm thinking of."

"James Harrison," Carson went on, "Is... was a man from Australia whose unusual plasma composition was used to make a treatment for Rhesus disease. He made over one thousand blood donations in his life and those alone were estimated to have saved the lives of over two million unborn babies from the condition. Now if some random man just happened to be the carrier for a treatment like that, then finding such a cure for this epidemic can't possibly be so impossible, right?"

Dad's back hunched over and he held his face in his hands, "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

"Rick, there has been nothing that's ever helped before, not like this. David was bitten and is still alive."

There was an unbearable moment of silence between them and I didn't think I could listen to anymore. There were so many things going through my head at the moment. I walked from the hatch and hopped from the roof of the trailer, sprinting to the chicken coops the moment my feet were on the ground. There I paced back and forth, trying to make sense of what the two of them had said.

It wasn't possible. It just couldn't have been. How could I have been the cure? After everything that had happened to us. How could it all have been here… inside of me?

Faces burst in my vision just then: Dianna, Bob, Troy, Brian, Tyrese, Noah… so many people could have been saved. The knowledge and pure agonizing guilt of it all tore me open and ate my insides raw.

It was the worst thing I had ever heard. My chest clenched tightly and I burst into tears right where I stood. It was the most painful cruel irony I had ever known.


	28. the Holy Grail

**Chapter 28  
** **The Holy Grail  
** When they found me again I was nearly hysterical. Carl came around the corner jus then and jumped when he saw the tears on my face. His mind leapt to the worst, thinking that maybe I had been attacked but I only shook my head, trembling with sobs. He tried to put a hand on my shoulder to calm me but it was the exact opposite of what I wanted and I overreacted immediately. Soon enough Maggie came round, attracted by the commotion. She stayed with me while Carl left to get Dad. I didn't know why I couldn't gain control of myself but I just couldn't calm down for some reason.

My head was aching, my chest heaved with gasps, a massive lump was lodged in the back of my throat, and water seemed to drip freely out of all the orifices in my face. Even while my hand tried to mop up most of what came out of my nose and mouth with my sleeves, in time more and more replaced what I tried to remove.

It was too much to bear. Too much to believe and I couldn't contain it anymore.

I gagged and sobbed and hiccupped repeatedly where I stood while Maggie and several passersby stared at me in confusion and concern. She tried to offer me a reassuring hand but being touched was the one thing I did NOT want from anyone. The idea of physical contact felt claustrophobic and invasive and I just couldn't handle that right now.

Even through my meltdown I felt bad for her and the lost expression on her face as she waited for people who knew what to do about such a situation.

Doctor Carson and my dad came around the corner five minutes later and stared back at me with the same expressions as everyone else.

"Judy, what's wrong?"

I leaned against the chicken wire as I struggled to talk through the sobs. "I can't stop—I-I can't stop—,"

"—Crying. She can't stop crying." Carl finished for me.

"I can see that. What did you guys do to her?"

"Nothing!" They answered defensively.

"Well what did you _say_ to her?" Carson suggested.

" _Nothing_!" They answered again.

Instinctively my dad reached out to calm me but both Maggie and Carl stopped him.

"NO DON'T!"

"I already tried that," Carl announced. "It only made things worse."

"She's going to dehydrate." Maggie interjected studying the streams of salt water running down my cheeks. She spoke loudly to me, as if she were talking to someone through glass. "Judith, do you want some water?"

My throat was indeed dry and I was dizzy but I shook my head with her offer, afraid I wouldn't be able to get it down over the lump even if I tried. "N-no, no."

"What happened?" Dad demanded.

"You tell us." Carl said, throwing and arm towards me exasperatedly. "She left for a moment to go pee only she was taking a while so I went to knock on the door to, you know, just to check on her but she wasn't in the bathroom. I went out to see where she could have gone and I found her over here like- _this_."

Just as he was telling them I pointed to Doctor Carson, trying to talk through my tears and hiccups and that painful lump that was suffocating me. "I didn't kn-know—I-I d-didn't kno-oh!"

"She says that every few minutes." Maggie informed. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

My father and Doctor Carson exchanged looks of worry. "Oh god, she was probably eavesdropping and the shock of it gave her a severe nervous breakdown."

"No kidding!"

"Wait eavesdropping on what?" Maggie asked, but both my father and the doctor ignored her.

"Judith…?"

"Make it stop! M-make it s-stop!" I begged clenching my hand tight against the wire. But everyone seemed to be at a loss for what to do so I suggested something.

"SOMEBODY SEDATE ME!" I screamed making everyone in the yard jump at the force while simultaneously causing Carl to lose hold of the handkerchief he had been cautiously trying to offer me.

My yell seemed to jar Doctor Carson to run and get his med kit while my brother picked up the handkerchief and offered it once more to me. This time I took it without thought, balling it in my hand as I sobbed and sobbed, working myself into more hysteria.

It took over an hour of coaxing and a few heavy cups of a special medicinal concoction to finally, finally settle my nerves and calm me down enough to speak in coherent sentences. I couldn't really walk so Doctor Carson suggested I take a seat right where I was. It felt too crowded with so many people staring at me so Carl and Maggie busied themselves to clear the area so I wouldn't get worked up again with the unnecessary audience.

I felt better speaking with just Dad and Doctor Carson anyways since they knew what had made me so upset in the first place. After a while though, Dad asked if it would be alright if we could be alone for a moment and the other man got up without question to give us a moment.

"I—I didn't know…" I attempted once I was able to form whole sentences again. "I didn't know that's why they never… came near me. I didn't know I was the cure all along. If I had then… Deanna and Tyreese and… Noah…" I began to sob more, bringing my knees up as I curled into a ball.

My dad looked pained by those words as he realized what they implied and how much guilt was pinning me where I stood because of all that. Without a thought, he attempted to console me. "Oh honey, that's not your fault. You couldn't have known. None of us knew."

But I barely heard him as I went on. "If I had known th—that's why they didn't come near me I would have come forward sooner. I really would have! We could have helped so many people. Maybe we could have even ended all of it by now. I was just… afraid."

"Why?"

"For a lot of reasons." I blurted to him. "You were… you were different. You lost your fight. You let those _people_ come in and take whatever they wanted. They already took Daryl. We couldn't hide anything from them and… and Negan told you to have something interesting for him the next week."

Realization dawned on him. "You thought I would let them take you."

I didn't say anything and my father breathed out sadly. His arms slowly pulled me into him and I rested my ear against his chest, feeling alright with touch once more. I listened to his heart and his voice as it rumbled from his chest. "I would never let anyone take you away from me, Judith. You and Carl are the most precious things in the world to me. They'd have to kill me first before they'd take you."

"I know you would die for me, Dad." I sniffed in defeat. "But what if they were going to kill Carl instead? Or Michonne or Aaron or Enid? What if they were going to just keep killing everyone in town?"

He went quiet by that. We both knew the answer to the question and I couldn't tell who was hurt worse by the thought of it.

There was no way to avoid it. It wasn't Dad's life that would be in danger when they day came that the secret would be discovered by the Saviors; it was everyone else's. Plans needed to be made; possibilities had to be considered.

"Dad, if something ever does happen to me; if I get taken away, I… I promise to be strong. I promise not to be afraid."

He looked like he was in pain again and his voice shook slightly at the idea. "Judith…"

"Just promise you won't stop taking care of our people." I said desperately. "I can be strong if I know you're being strong, too."

I wondered if the leverage I had would work. Dad's first and foremost concern was our wellbeing. He'd do anything for the people he loved and if I could convince him that the only way I'd be able to get through such a nightmare was if he was strong in addition, then he'd do it for me. Even so, it was a long time before he finally answered.

"Alright… I promise."

"I'd do anything for you dad." I told him.

His grip on me tightened and I could tell my words didn't have the effect on him as I intended. I knew he didn't want me to do anything for him (particularly if it involved risking my life) but that wasn't his choice, and he couldn't stop me even if he tried. All he could do was accept my words grudgingly.

* * *

Sometime after I was calmed, we went to the infirmary to see the man who had survived the walker attack thanks to my donation. Just as Doctor Carson said, there was a bite over his shoulder blade but it'd been stitched up, bandaged, and there was no sign of fever from the man that anyone could see.

A woman was embracing him, sobbing over his chest when we looked inside.

The sight of it made me feel a little better—actually, it made me feel a lot better. No one else could give this to him. I had helped save his life from an infection they predicted would destroy everything—would kill everyone exposed. And I helped save him from that. He should have been dead and he wasn't. The insaneness of that was unbelievable.

He was alive and that was a miracle. A freaking miracle!

I might not have been able to save those other people that we cared about, but I knew now that I could start helping more and start contributing the way it had been planned for me.

Was this what Jenner had wanted? Was this how he thought the cure would be created?

I didn't know and no one else could really say either.

But the next time we saw David, Doctor Carson was speaking with him and his wife.

"I'd like to keep you under observation for one more day, just to see how this pans out. And I'm going to have to ask you to keep this as secret as possible. We need this to stay on the lowdown."

"Why?" The man asked through tears of happiness. "You've done it! You've found the cure! We need to tell everyone about this!"

"We're still trying to figure this out and until then, we need to keep this classified."

"So, you cured me and you don't even know how?"

"You better start figuring it out." His wife said.

"I'm working on that."

Just then his eyes burst with tears and he sobbed with pure joy. "I can't thank you enough, Doctor." David said. "How on earth is this even possible?"

"I wish I knew."

"Thank you," the woman said, reaching out and taking his hand. "Thank you so much."

"You should be thanking your husband; he's very strong to be the only person to ever live through a roamer bite."

The man blushed a little by those words and the woman curled closer to him on the bed hugging him tightly.

The doctor came out and looked to both my dad and me before shutting the door quietly. "I'm sorry." He told us. "But I didn't fully disclose to them how he was able to survive the attack. For the moment, I think it might be in everyone's best interest to keep the truth of it discreet."

"Thank you." Dad said looking down at me. "I'd rather not let that information out for Judith's safety."

I looked between the two men. "As long as it keeps helping people then I'm fine with that."

The doctor nodded but looked up to Dad again. "Are you going to be leaving soon then?"

"We're just getting ready, now."

The doctor nodded but shifted as he looked from my dad to me. Finally he blurted. "I think… I think Judith should stay here."

My dad didn't even bat an eye. "No."

But Carson wasn't going to take it for an answer as he began carefully. "Rick, you have to understand, this is the closest we've ever gotten to beating this thing. I need to run more tests, do more experiments. Figure out the extent of this. Maybe I could isolate the properties of her blood to develop a fully active cure."

I looked up towards my dad but he wasn't going to have it. "Dad, maybe we should…"

"Judith, go pack your things." He ordered.

For a long moment, I didn't move.

"Go." He said sharply.

With that, I turned to do as I was told. Whenever Dad got that look in his eye I knew it wasn't up for negotiation. Best to just do as I was told when he got that way.

I rushed first to Maggie's house to stuff the little I had into my knapsack before running out again and spotting Carl as he packed up the cart.

"So… are you alright now?" He asked hesitantly, gauging the state of me and probably wondering if I was going to have another meltdown.

"I'm fine. I guess I was just under a lot of stress is all. The donation took a lot out of me." I shrugged. "But I'm okay, now. Totally fine."

The sounds of shouting stole our attentions and we both looked up to see Carson and Dad arguing still, but now Jesus was talking with them as well. It seemed reasonable that he would know as well, he was the town leader after all.

"I said NO!" Dad yelled over his shoulder as he turned from the men. "And that's my final word about it!"

"What are they talking about?" Carl asked.

"I dunno." I lied, loading into the cart. "Leader stuff."

Carl glared angrily at it all, peeved by the whole situation. "Why do I feel like I'm being deliberately left out of the loop here?"

"Don't feel bad, you're not the only one." Maggie announced coming towards us with little Hershel in her arms. "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye were you?"

I leaned over the side of the cart and pecked the little guy on the head. "Bye, bye Hershel. I love you and I hope I'll see you again soon."

"Lub you, Joo-by." The little boy responded, grinning at me with a toothy smile. "Come back soon."

"I'll try. Don't miss me too much, okay little man?"

"Oh-tay."

Carl leaned forward and brushed back his black lochs. "Bye, Hershel. I hope we see you again real soon."

We loaded onto the cart while the others swung up on their horses. Dad got in the cart beside me and Carl and we looked up at him.

"What was that all about?" Carl asked curiously.

"Nothing. It's not important anymore." He answered.

"Sounded important." Carl muttered.

"The matter's been settled."

Even if either of us tried to press it, we knew they were his final words on the subject and he would say no more about it. So, with that both of us turned from him and faced forward towards home.

* * *

 **Author's notes: For those of you who don't know, James Harrison from the last chapter is a real person and his blood really does contain a composition to cure Rhesus disease and is known as the Man with the Golden Blood. He holds the record for the most donations of blood plasma in the world. He broke the record during May of 2011 with his 1000th donation of plasma. Meaning, he averaged a donation every three weeks for fifty-seven years. When he achieved it, he said, quote "I could say it's the only record that I hope is broken, because if they do, it means they have donated a thousand donations."**

 **I used to think that cures isolated from so called "special blood" was all in science fiction, like Rick said and I didn't want to make it sound like I was just going along with what other movies, comics, and fictional books have done in the past. It was really refreshing to find out that this wasn't just some cliché solution found in other media but can actually happen in real life.**

 **I'd like to close by saying t** **wo chapters today, yay! I wanted to give you them because I think I'm going to take a break from this story for a while. Not sure how long it'll be but it may be a few weeks to a month (hopefully not that long), just so I can work on a few other projects I've got going on at the moment. I might post a bit from the drabbles I keep promising, as well as a few fanart. When I do, they'll be posted on my deviantart and/or my tumblr page.**

 **As always, leave a review telling me what you thought of the latest chapters. Your insight is always appreciated. Luv ya all lots!**


	29. How to be a Smartass

**Chapter 29  
How to be a Smartass  
**Once arriving back home, I climbed the stairs to my room and began to unpack my things. I hadn't been there for longer than two minutes before I heard trucks rolling through the gates. Curious, I glanced out my window to see the Saviors rolling into town and Negan jumping from the leader. Dad greeted him but it looked like he wasn't the one Negan particularly wanted to speak to at the moment. A rock dropped in my stomach and I stepped away from the window, conscious of who he probably wanted to see.

For some reason, my hand began to itch just then, and I became uncomfortably aware of the blood under my skin and the threat it posed towards me. If Negan found out…

The thought froze me where I stood.

 _Could he already know?_

He couldn't have. Surely, he couldn't have.

I swallowed nervously when Carl opened the door to let me know about our present "company" and that I was being asked for.

He must have caught the look of fear across my face just then as he paused in concern.

"You okay, sis?"

I swallowed again and nodded. "Y-yeah. I'll be right down."

The sudden realization of what I was hit me at that moment and I felt a tangible dread overpower me just then. What would happen if Negan knew what was inside of me? I tried to convince myself that he couldn't possibly know that, though, and that he was calling for me, simply because he knew about the attack, no doubt, and wanted to see if I was still alive or not. That's what this was right here. Nothing more. There was no call to be this terrified. No call…

When I worked up the nerve to go downstairs, I spotted Negan leaning back in one of our wicker patio chairs with two of his men leaning against the beams of the porch; his guards in case one of us tried to attack or kill him.

"Judy, you're alive. Thank god."

A cold sweat had grown on the back of my neck and I nodded in greeting towards him, afraid my voice would come out as a squeak if I tried to talk at all.

"I bet you're wondering why we're early for our pickup this week."

For the third time in barely ten minutes I swallowed uneasily. He didn't know—he couldn't have.

"Well I heard about that little misadventure you had the other day and wanted to see if you were alright."

"I'm fine," I said immediately, feeling guarded and insulted by his feigned concern. He didn't give a crap if I was okay or not. This was just some sick game he was playing with me.

"I'm glad to see that." He had a box in his hand today, wrapped in green paper and tied with a ribbon. "I heard about your near-fatal injury and brought you a little get well—,"

"No thank you!" I snapped before he'd even finished. Whatever it was, I sure as hell wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of accepting it. I didn't want or need anything he was offering. There was always a price to pay for his so called "charity" and I would never let myself fall into his debt.

I saw his eyes widen in surprise as if I'd physically slapped him, and his voice lowered dangerously with my rude refusal. "I'm sorry, but it sounded as if you actually said no to me." Those words and the tone of that statement sent a dangerous sort of thrill through me. "You could at least wait to hear what it is I brought you before shutting me down like a cold little stuck-up."

I didn't say a word to that but fixed him with an unwavering glare, unmoved by his insult. He growled when he saw I would not be moved on this, and tossed the box he was fixing to give to me back towards one of his men.

"Fine. Be that way." Whatever good mood he'd been in before getting here, evaporated with my instantaneous rejection. He leaned back in his chair and gaged my appearance, studying me as if he were trying to decide what he wanted to do with me now that I was here.

"I came a long way to make sure you weren't dead or comatose, but now that I'm here, I'm not sure why I fucking bothered. Still, while I've got you here, we might as well have a little talk. Sit."

With his command, I took the seat furthest from him, but maintained my glare. Even with my heart pounding with anger, that tremendous fear that rose up the moment he rolled into town still rested beneath it.

I was uncharacteristically nervous. But really, my unease was completely ridiculous. I'd been in this position countless times before and so far, nothing had happened to me. I knew how to handle this monster well enough. Yet even with that in mind I couldn't ease my hammering pulse.

This time felt different than those other ones for some reason. Who was I kidding? It _was_ different. I was uncomfortably aware of the blood under my skin and the way it crawled through my veins, almost like _I_ was the one infected instead of the rest of the world.

Maybe, in some ways, I really was.

It certainly felt that way. I felt in even more danger as I sat beside this lunatic, knowing full well what lied inside of me; the answer to it all—the thing everyone wanted. I kept scratching at the back of my hand, nails digging into the skin till I'd scratched it near raw.

Negan noticed my unease and unsurprisingly addressed it.

"Something wrong, sweetheart? You seem very… on edge."

"I'm fine." I snapped quickly, before he had barely finished.

"You itch or something?"

I stopped scratching at my hand and folded it under my opposite arm, looking away quickly. "No—yes! It's just an itch!"

"That so? You need something for that?"

"No. I'll get something on it later."

"Don't scratch at it too much or it'll scar. Speaking of scars, that bear mauling you took the other day. I'm sorry I wasn't here for it. Bet it'll scar real good; I mean, if you're into that. Does it hurt bad?"

"No." I said simply. That was a lie, though. It was still sore and I took care to keep from leaning against anything or laying on my back. Even now, I hunched forward, rather than sitting against the back rest on the porch chairs.

"That's going to be a kickass scar when it's all healed up and I'm definably going to want to see that when it's all—"

"I'M NOT TAKING MY SHIRT OFF FOR YOU!"

I bellowed it so loud every person surrounding turned towards us immediately. The look on Negan's face was one I had never in my life imagined on him, and had it been on any regular day I would have bust a gut laughing at his deer-in-the-headlights expression. Everyone in the vicinity was looking at him with mixed expressions of horror and appall even from a few of his own men. For the first time, he looked very uncomfortable.

He played an uneasy smile, trying to wave it off as a joke to the concerned passersby. "Heh-heh, that's not what I said. Kid's just jumping to conclusions."

It took a while for them all to dispatch, but some shouts and barks from his men to move along, eventually got the citizens to thin out again.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you today?" Negan said turning back, looking deeply offended by my behavior as if _I_ were the one out of line. "I come here concerned and worried about you, eager to give you something that I was really excited about and all you're doing is acting defensive and ungrateful."

"We…we pay you, not the other way around." I answered uneasily. In the back of my mind I considered maybe I should have been a bit politer to him. If I could put up a somewhat civilized pretense then maybe he wouldn't think twice about leaving that much sooner. Of course, I didn't want him to start enjoying himself here and think he was beginning to be welcomed. Ugh… what was I supposed to do exactly?

Negan looked at me after those words and leaned again back in his chair. "I suppose you do now, don't you?"

I didn't answer to that, refusing to look at him while I sat there and fidgeted. My mind was busy with other thoughts. Too many things were crowded in my head to manage paying attention to him and his idle talk. He used the silence to sit there and study me. The intensity of his glare made the sweat on my neck grow more and more profound until he spoke once more.

"Other than your snaps, you're pretty quiet today. Normally you're a much better conversation than this. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing…"

His eyebrow rose, by that announcement. "Has to be something if it's got you so tightlipped."

"Maybe I'm just not very talkative right now." I wish I could have left it at that but the bite in me wouldn't be stomped down no matter how hard I tried to squash my hatred. "Or maybe I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible so you'll leave already. I don't know how it's so hard for you to understand that you're not welcomed."

"Don't insult my intelligence! I know perfectly well I'm not fucking welcomed and you should know that I don't give a shit if you don't want me here or not. I'm getting what's due to me and you're not going to say a word about it, understand you little brat?"

My mouth pressed tight and I fumed with rage. I hated him so much.

"You know it's probably going to be a while wait till they're done loading up. So why don't we play a game."

"I don't like games." My stomach twisted up at the idea. I just wanted to get this over with already.

"Everyone likes games."

"I'M NOT LIKE EVERYONE!" I shouted, feeling panicked. The moment the words had stumbled from my mouth I heard the mistake in the statement and tried frantically to revise it. "I-I mean I am! I am like everyone else! I'm completely normal, I j-just don't like games!"

"Okay, okay then!" Negan held up his hands defensively and looked at me like I was completely losing my mind. "Don't go crazy on me, kid."

"No one is crazy, I'm just interested in different things!"

"Alright!" He snapped at last. "My god, don't have a conniption. Seriously, what's with you? I've never seen you this wound tight. I mean, you're wound tight, sure, but not this much." He leaned against his chair. "You're probably the single kid I've ever met with a stress level high enough to give you a gallstone. And now that I see you, you look like shit. Don't you sleep? If you're so fucking worried about… whatever it is you're worried about, maybe I should be as well. So, what is it? Is it about your scar?"

"Would you forget about the scar already? What's with you and scars? Do you have some kind of fetish or something?"

"K-keep your voice down." He said, glancing around and catching sight of several citizens stopping again to look towards us in concern. "I don't need you blowing this out of the water."

At that moment, my dad seemed to materialize from the porch, looking angry as he stepped up behind my chair. It looked like he'd been lingering close by in case things started to look threatening.

"Your supplies are loaded." Dad announced, resting a hand on my shoulder protectively. "If there's nothing else—"

Negan shot to his feet by that and stood right up to my father, straightening to his full height and looking severely more dangerous than I could remember him ever being at that moment. "I'll leave when I'm fucking good and ready to leave, prick! Don't fucking interrupt me ever fucking again! Judy and I are having a conversation, so butt out already."

Dad fixed him with a defiant stare, looking deeply reluctant to leave me alone with him again.

Negan stepped up to him, looking like he was one insolent word away from ripping my father open. My gaze traveled to the massive bowie knife on his belt and the sight of it filled me with a new terror. At once my memory jogged to what that knife had done to Spencer and my concern for my dad spiked.

"D-dad, it's alright. I'm alright. It's just talking."

Even with those words, Dad didn't move so much as an inch, keeping his gaze fixed against Negan's while a smile slowly grew on the taller man.

"Listen to your little girl, Rick. She knows what she's doing… probably." His last word made my dad more disinclined than ever to leave my side and I could tell by that protective glint in his eye that if I didn't do something soon to get him out of here, Negan was going to do his utmost best to deal out a new horrifying trauma.

"Dad, please. I'll be fine." I pushed him a little away, trying to prompt him to turn around and go. It took two shoves but eventually he chose better and took his leave, lingering out of sight just in case.

"Smart move, Judy." Negan said, looking down at where I remained seated in the chair. "Apparently, you're not as dumb as you act. You obviously remembered what I'm capable of and it's a damn good thing you did, otherwise there would have been another mess you people would need to clean up."

I fixed him with a glare, letting his insult roll off my back as easily as rain. "Were you really going to kill my dad?"

"Hmm… Well I'm not sure." He lowered back in his chair, considering my question. "Five months ago, I would have said no. But these days something tells me his usefulness is starting to run out."

I didn't like those words. Not one bit.

"My dad—"

"Before you fire back with some clever comparison between your dad and I involving his usefulness verses mine, I want you to take this opportunity _to think_." He said the words carefully and delicately, like they were the most important lesson I would ever hear from him. "I know you're smart and all, but sometimes you don't have a whole fucking lot of commonsense. If it weren't for that trait you'd be charming the hell out of me, instead of pissing me off a whole fucking lot. I don't want to have to traumatize you—not yet at least. So, I'm going to give you a bit of advice; show some fucking manners to me, or I'm going to be taking a whole fucking lot of my frustrations out on these nice townsfolk. I know you'd do pretty much anything for them by now, and if you can wander through death infested woods without batting an eye, you can show your benefactor some measly bit of courtesy once in a while."

My lips made a furious angry line across my face and I fumed in outrage, biting back my next words with reluctance.

Negan saw the struggle on my face and seemed to get an idea just then. "You know I've occasionally noticed a few kids around town that seem a bit new to me. Now normally I don't pay a whole fucking lot of attention to kids, but these three seem to just really stand out for some reason. I think they're siblings, I mean I assume so, but I'd rather not make assumptions. You wouldn't happen to know them by any chance?"

A horrible feeling entered my gut with those words as a terrible feeling entered my gut about whom he may have been talking about.

"I—I don't think I know which ones you're talking about. I… don't get along with kids around town."

"Oh, they're pretty hard to miss. There's three of them, Latino, one's a little boy with a missing hand, the next is a girl with a messed-up lip, and the oldest is probably your age."

I tried to school my features, but I couldn't help my hammering heart. "Yeah, I know them."

"Do you now?"

"Well, _yeah_. It's not a very large town, after all."

"Well why don't you tell me a bit about those three."

"Why are you suddenly interested in them?" My fear was taken over by defensiveness as I thought hard on ways to divert his attention from the Waifs.

"I want to know about all the newcomers."

"You don't even care about the original tenants. This is just some twisted way for you to try then fail at mindfucking me again."

" _Oh_ , using grown-up words now, are we?"

" _Oh_ , ran out of good comebacks now, have we?"

"Ohh burn!" A snort of unexpected laughter burst from one of the men standing nearby and Negan turned towards him, fuming that one of his men would dare laugh at my retort and not his. The man's mouth promptly snapped closed when he caught Negan's expression and he looked away, embarrassed.

It was difficult hiding my smirk for that.

Negan sneered, "Why don't you just copy someone next time? Oh wait, you did."

"You're just mad because it was funnier when I said it." I retorted, forgetting momentarily about the danger I was stepping in by baiting him.

"No one was around when I said it."

"No one would have laughed if they heard you."

Another snort from the same man and Negan growled through his teeth. "Roger, would you stop laughing at her fucking quips. You're encouraging her."

Just to show them just _how_ much they were encouraging me, I added with sass, "You better watch out, Roger. He might bend you over his knee, he threatened to do that to me one time!"

This time both the men turned away sharply, their hands flying to their mouths as they struggled to hide their conjoined snorts of mirth. I saw the vein on Negan's neck bulge and his face turn scarlet as he turned to the two, growling low, " _Leave us_."

I caught the final words one of them muttered to his partner as they stepped off the porch. "That kid is nuts!"

"Oh my god, I can't get the image out of my head."

Now that Negan and I were alone we face one another with identical looks of challenge.

"You're real fucking lucky I like you so much kid, but my patience only goes so far." There was danger in his tone and I immediately assessed that all humor had vanished with his words. "You just made me look like a fucking idiot in front of my men."

"I think you give me too much credit."

That comment seemed to ignite his fury once again as he rose for the last time from his chair and towered over me.

"Alright you smartass little termite," his hands gripped the armrests, leaning far too close into my personal space and making me shrink against the backrest, igniting the sores on my back and nearly brining me to tears with how much is stung. "Next week I'm gunna be back here, and since you're so keen on holding the short end of a give-take relationship, you're going to use that smart little head of yours to find me something real fucking incredible. I don't want fresh goods and I don't want dead animals. I want something that'll really fucking surprise me. If you don't deliver I think I'm going to have to take one of those new little Latino tikes with me back to the Sanctuary till you do find something that meets my demands."

A terrified rock dropped in my stomach with those words. Before I even had time to process the whole of that threat he was already stomping away and climbing into a truck.

"Load up boys, we're headed out."

The sounds of the engines as they drove away seemed almost deafening this time around.

 _Something real fucking incredible_? I thought with anxiety. There wasn't anything I could give that was incredible. Nothing except…

I looked down at the scratches on the back of my hand, conscious of what lay under the flesh and pumped through the raw blue veins. There was a building terror that if all else failed to keep the Waifs out of Negan's attention I may have had to give myself up to ensure their continued protection. If there was one thing I was bound and determined to do, it was that I would never let them fall into the hands of people so heartless ever again.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Oh boy, stuff is really starting to go down now! Will Judith need to reveal the full extent of her condition in order to protect the Waifs? Who knows? I guess we'll find out in the next chapter.**

 **On a different note, you guys would not believe how hard it was to write this chapter. I'll once more begin posting regularly again and like I promised, I've started a small collection of drabbles and little stories to go with this main one at the moment entitled "Elf Tales and Drabbles" (not that great of a title I know). For anyone who would like to submit a prompt I'm open to any ideas that you guys suggest.**

 **And like always, your encouragement is always appreciated, so leave a review of what you think about this new development and I'll see you next week.**

 **Luv ya lots!**


	30. Where You Are

**Chapter 30  
Where You Are  
**That evening we had dinner as usual. The meal remained strangely quiet all throughout it, with the only sounds being our forks clinking against the dishes as we ate in silence. Dad's face was down, no doubt thinking over the events of the last few days. I too was speechless, my mind in the same area his probably was.

After the dishes, we went straight to bed, unwilling to really stay up to talk or listen to Bianca while we relaxed with the projects tended to after the sun had gone down.

I took my time using the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face carefully. For about the hundredth time I turned to glance at the bandages covering my stitches. I hadn't gotten a proper look at them since the first time they were bound and I didn't dare unwrap them without help. Still, I was at least able to trace them carefully. I could feel them under the cloth and was curious about how they looked now. My mind ran over the comments Negan made earlier today.

Would I have a scar? Despite his creepy jabs I really did hope I'd get a cool scar from all this, one I could brag about someday.

Michonne normally helped me change them and since we had no professionally prepared antibiotics to ward away infection or pain, we were left with a homemade aloe and witch hazel salve to sterilize them. I had to lie on my stomach whenever it was applied and it killed horribly every time, but only for a few seconds before it was overcome by an icy tingle. It really wasn't too bad once we got passed the first few seconds.

As hard to move as it was, it looked like I was healing rather well according to Doctor Carson when he checked on them back at Hilltop with my father's insistence.

I pulled my night shirt back down once again and left the bathroom, only my feet didn't take me to my bedroom. Instead, I hovered outside Dad and Michonne's room, listening to them talk. I couldn't expect Dad to not tell Michonne the unbelievable news. Maybe leave Carl out of the loop—to protect him—but not Michonne. Dad told Michonne everything and she knew how to keep secrets well. She would never breathe a word to anyone.

It felt wrong to exclude Carl so deeply but it was for his own good. The fewer people to know these things the better. Of course, in the back of my mind that was just to quell the surge of guilt than to admit it was dishonest and unfair. Still, we would need to disclose it to him soon otherwise he would be hurt worse the longer he was kept ignorant. I put that out of my mind for a moment while I continued to listen.

"I can't believe the answer, the solution to all this… it's been with us this whole time," My dad told his wife, "…in her. It shouldn't be possible. It's too insane. Too ironic and easy and… unexpected. I mean… how? Why? After all this time, all this death and pain? Why give this to us now?"

"I don't know."

There was a long moment of silence and I entertained the image of Michonne maybe embracing my father from behind and holding him as she rested her cheek against his strong back.

"It's always been strange with her. Sometimes I really don't know whose child she is."

My heart leapt into my throat by his words, but I just told myself it wasn't anything I didn't already know. I pressed harder against the door.

"I look at her and I see Lori in her face and eyes, but she doesn't look like her… not really. Sometimes she talks like how Shane used to talk back before all of it. But then she'll say something that'll sound like what I'd say." His voice was low and I had to press my ear right up against the keyhole to hear it better. "I don't know why I've been given her. Sometimes it feels like a greater force is trying to mock me through her. Ghosts and dead men, secret gardens, witches, and now a cure?" There was a weighted silence and it seemed like he'd paused to stare off in thought as he all but whispered into the darkness. "What _is_ she, Michonne?"

To that Michonne actually had an answer. "She's our daughter." The woman answered. "She's your daughter. She's my daughter. She's Carl's sister. She's _ours_. That's what she is. And that's what she'll always be first."

My heart soared by those words. I had never been so moved by something Michonne had said and my throat tightened by the beauty of it. Despite all the secrets I kept they still looked at me as they always have. An enormous weight lifted from my shoulders by the confirmation and I pressed closer to listen more.

"Who else knows?" Michonne asked.

"I'm not sure. Only Carson, David and Jesus know about the cure. Thankfully David doesn't know how he was given it. I think Aaron and Enid think she's just able to divert them, though. We need to keep it as secret as we possibly can."

"All our secrets eventually are discovered, no matter how careful we are. Others will come for her." Michonne interrupted solemnly. "The Saviors and Negan will learn about her and come to take her away. Are you going to let that happen?"

"Negan's taken our food, our supplies, and our weapons and hell our dignity, but he is not taking her." He growled resolutely. "I have to find somewhere safe and I need to take her there myself. And I think I have someplace in mind."

"Where?"

I could almost hear the hopeful smile in his voice. "Maybe the kingdom will help in that regards."

* * *

I couldn't leave. I wouldn't. Sometime in the night the full weight of my importance hit me. Now that I understood why I was like this I realized now the whole extent of use I could be to everyone. I could go in places other people couldn't and get us supplies that were otherwise completely cut off to us. I could travel far through whole herds of thousands of walkers and comeback with the treasures and riches of the old world. And if anyone was ever bitten my blood would save them. There was no longer any need to watch as our people died or lost limbs. Everyone would be taken care of.

All night the only thoughts I could think about was the use I could be to everyone. My own safety hardly mattered if it meant I could do more for my people. I could do much more for them and I addressed the issue the next morning with my parents.

"Dad, Michonne, I want to talk to you both about something."

"We wanted to talk with you, too."

I shook my head before he started. "I know what you're going to say. You want to send me away." They looked startled momentarily that I'd discovered their intentions, but I continued before they could regain their thoughts. "I'm sorry, Dad, but I'm not going. I can't. Now that you know I'm like this and _why_ I'm like this I want to do more. I should be used more."

Dad looked shocked by my wording. "You want to be _used_?"

"Yes Dad. I should be used more for the benefit of _our_ people. I can go in more places that were otherwise cut off to others because of walkers. I can get us better supplies and tools maybe even find more livestock."

"No." Dad said without even considering the possibilities. "We aren't risking your life like that. We're well provided for here enough as it is. We don't need anything that's worth putting you at risk."

I was stunned by those words. He'd been presented with an enormous advantage, and he didn't even want to use it?

"Oh yeah?" I fired back quickly. "What about medicine? Antibiotics? Tools and weapons? Machines? And I still need to fetch something incredible for that fucking overlord, otherwise he's going to take one of the Waifs back and hurt them!" I challenged. "In Washington there's a plethora of all of that, but no one can go near it because of the army of the dead. No one except me. I can be in and out and get as much stuff as we need."

"No, you can't!" He insisted firmly. "That place is impenetrable. That army won't let anyone through."

"They'll let me through. Think about it. They don't want to get near me, Dad. I'm the only one who can—"

"No!" He nearly shouted leaping to his feet so fast he knocked over his chair. "This whole business has got you thinking you're somehow invincible! You're not special, Judith. You're just arrogant and it's going to get you killed if I don't step in."

My throat tightened by those words from him but I shoved through it getting to my feet as well. "And you're small-minded and a coward!" I blurted back my voice rising with his.

"Judith!" Michonne cried, stepping in by my outburst, but I didn't let her continue.

"You don't want to take risks anymore, even if it saves us!" I yelled. "Mrs. Byron has cancer. She's dying and we could get the things to save her."

"Mrs. Byron is old! It's just her time."

"That's bullshit!" I blurted.

"Watch your mouth!"

But I went on. "Well what about when it's someone else's time, huh? What then? What if Carl or Tanti or Mari or Luis gets sick and we can't help them because we don't have the proper supplies? What if we can find more than just tools. What if there's people—survivors? They could be stuck and just waiting for someone to find them. There could be doctors, engineers, scientists! Aren't they worth something? Shouldn't we risk it for them?"

"NO! WE WILL NOT!" His words were a roar and there was something in his eyes by that declaration; a sort of unhinged madness echoing through images of terror and turmoil from shadowy memories. My mouth snapped shut and the room was silent while both Michonne and I stared at him. I could barely see his face while his hair shadowed his wide wild eyes. Then he began again in a guttural hush.

"The worst thing I could imagine is finding survivors in that place because if they've lived this long it's because they've managed to do unforgivable things—things you can't possibly imagine, Judith. You're… you're too young. You're too young and good to possibly understand."

I glared, far from swayed or terrified by those words. "Too young to understand that some people take _advantage_ of other people? Too young to understand that some people _dominate_ other people? Too young to understand that some people _torture_ other people? Or too young to understand that some people _eat_ other people?"

He stared back at me in anguish, they both did.

"I'm probably very naïve about a lot of things, but I'd like to think I'm not completely clueless about cruelty."

"Judith," it was Michonne that spoke this time her voice heavy and imploring, as if she was desperately wishing me to understand what they were trying to say. "You are just too young. You're _our_ baby."

"I'm not a baby!" I snapped, my voice tightening and tears stinging my eyes by her tenderness. "I'm… not a child!"

"You _are_ a child. That's all we ever wanted for you. We want you to have a childhood. We want you to live long and happy, free of fear and strife as much as we can give it to you. You don't have to push yourself for us. You don't have to sacrifice for us."

"Yes, I do!" I cried back, the tears coming to my eyes at last. Why couldn't they understand? Why couldn't they just take what I was trying to give them? "You're… _everyone_ … is my people. I have to take care of you."

The kitchen was silent once more.

"You don't have to do anything for us, Judith. You don't need to take care of us." Michonne said and it was like a plea. "You don't need to worry about us. We're not worth it. Please… just… stop this."

"…I can't." I explained, angry frustrated tears sliding down my face. "I can't stop worrying. Sometimes I want to so bad. I even try not to, but I just can't… any more than _you_ can." I looked towards them and they each had identical looks of confusion and worry. They were trying so hard to understand, I knew they were, but they still didn't get it. So, I tried harder to explain. "Everyone doesn't want me straining myself or worrying so much about them. It's not my place. I'm just a kid. Everyone thinks I should be playing. They want me to. That's what everyone always tells me, but has anyone ever considered that this just might be the way I play?"

"Judith…"

"I'm not stupid; I know I'm different from the other kids—in more ways than one! But I can't change myself and… I don't think it's fair to ask me to, especially when all I want to do is work to help our people."

"I still can't let you do it." Dad said. "Supplies are important, but you're more important—to us at least."

I glared back at him. "I think the _town_ should be more important, that's what makes you a poor leader, Dad. You can't value our lives over everyone else's. You just can't!"

He and Michonne once more shared identical looks of shock with my statement and I used that distraction to leave. I didn't care if it got me in trouble and I didn't care if they were calling me back. I was just so angry about being immediately shut down. They didn't even try to understand or imagine the good I could do for everyone. They just wanted to keep me shut up and safe forever behind these walls.

But who wanted to live like that?

Angry about their decision there was only one place I wanted to be right now.

"Eugene, can you open the gate for me?"

The man on duty looked hesitant about the idea. "I'm sorry, Miss Grimes, but you know the rules, I'm afraid that children…"

"You know I go out there all the time even without an escort or partner!" I snapped at him. Normally I was never so rude but after the argument with my parents I was in no mood to tolerate anyone's patronizing. "Everyone does, already! I am the single person who is the least at risk outside these walls, so you can either let me out here or I'll climb the walls later. You know perfectly well that I can and will. Least this way you know where I went."

He looked speechless and very much taken aback. Then his brow lowered attempting something that barely resembled an authoritative tone. "Miss Grimes, as the guard on duty I'm in charge of who comes and…"

I puffed up to my full height and looked him square in the eye, lowering my voice commandingly. " _Eugene_. Open. The. Gate."

It's still not completely clear to me why exactly he stepped aside and drew back the bars for me. Any other adult probably wouldn't have taken such lip or demands from a kid, but Eugene had always been frightened and ordered about easily. In my darkest moments, I was guilty to admit I _hated_ him for such weakness and even thought him pathetic at times. Yeah, he was smart, maybe he was one of the most valued minds in town, but he was spineless and weak.

In the back of my mind I carried a deep grudge for him. He was the one that sold the others out that night—that ultimately sold us to the Saviors, because for one moment he tricked the others to think he was brave when he wasn't.

People like that pissed me off!

There was so much anger inside of me right now that the only thing that I was sure would calm it was the quiet and seclusion in the forest. As nice as it was to enjoy the peace I wasn't really looking to be alone, so I decided to go to the island where I could speak to an actual friend.

* * *

I sat in sullen silence in one of the old garden chairs while Vanessa lounged in the opposite one with me. We were both quiet while I fumed about the events of the morning and past few days. She didn't seem inclined to interrupt or add anything for conversation until she said, out of nowhere, "Tell me a story, Beetle."

I wasn't in the mood for stories or talking, though.

"Once upon a time I hated being ten years old. It was the worst age in the world. The end!"

"Oh, I'd yank off my own nails to be able to be ten again." She responded easily. "I think you're just being a bit melodramatic."

"Am I?" I snapped furiously. "No one takes me seriously, my dad treats me like a statue of glass, the people in town look at me like some kind of time bomb, and I can't do anything for anyone! The only one that lets me do anything is that swine-ass overlord and I hate him so much it almost kills me! Oh and now I guess I have to find something fucking incredible for him so he doesn't cart off one of the only innocent people in town back to his house of horrors where he can do god-knows-what to them!"

Vanessa's brow went up in surprise by my outburst. With her expression, I drew away in shame and tried to amend my rant.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult, I'm just so angry about everything. I want to be used more often for our people but Dad just doesn't see the good I could do. He's so afraid someone else will find out and hurt me for it. I get what he's saying and I'd be dumb if I didn't worry about that, too, but I'd rather be using it frequently than being held up somewhere and not being useful for anything at all and then have somebody find out anyways."

"I can see how frustrating that is." Vanessa answered.

"What would you do, Vanessa?" I asked, deeply needing some sage advice. "If you were me, what would you do?"

"Me? I'm not quite sure. Sometimes it's best to listen to those who watch over you. They've suffered many trials to keep you safe, after all."

"I know." I said quietly looked towards a line of ants. I studied the leader as it led the way to a squashed peach on the ground. "They're good people and they'll do what they need to make sure I'm safe, but… now it's my turn to keep them safe. They've been through enough. If I have the power to help them, don't you think I should use it?"

She smiled and looked up at the sky whimsically. "I think you are very wise to see where your help is needed most, but you are very young. You know more beyond your years and that may have made you a bit arrogant in ways. I fear your eagerness to leap into things could lead to a rash decision soon. However, I am confident that when the time comes, you will do what you believe is right, and if you can live by that, it will never lead you astray."

Her words made me feel better about things, though I did feel a little stung for being called arrogant twice in one day by two different people. Was I really arrogant? I kept my gaze down at the ants as they piled up onto the peach.

Maybe I was.


	31. Sing Me a Song

**Chapter 31  
Sing Me a Song  
**I walked the distance back to town, running Vanessa's words over in my head.

 _Arrogant_ ; Dad had called me it as well before I left home.

" _You're not invincible. You're arrogant and it's going to get you killed someday."_

Was he right? Would I just end up getting myself and others killed, if I kept this up? My mind was so preoccupied that walking through the forest I didn't catch the sight of the snare before it was too late.

My ankle caught on something thick and binding, like a rope, and before I had time to consider how odd that was, my legs were yanked out from under me and I was being dragged harshly across the ground before it was snapped suddenly up and lifted high into the air. It all happened so fast I only had time to let out a shaky yelp of surprise before I suddenly found myself dangling upside down about six feet above the earth.

Whatever was in my pockets dropped out of them and my cloak hung down around my face, blinding me and making it more awkward with the material obstructing my vision.

I kicked and cried out instinctively. "What the hell!" Then I heard a branch snap below me and reached down to grab my cloak, lifting it up just in time to watch as something shot from out of nowhere and hit me hard against the head.

My vision swam with darkness and nothing more.

* * *

I could remember having the strangest dream. Through it, a blinding pain throbbed in my skull the whole time. It was so awful that I couldn't make sense of anything the entire time. All I honestly remember were people standing over me as they talked between each other. Most of what they said was indistinguishable, but I recognized words like "witch" "dead" and "wolves" being thrown around.

And then there were bangs like gunshots being fired and loud screams. In the back of my mind I processed the reality of an attack but could not make my body react one bit. I didn't panic or struggle or even look around to gage the gravity of this situation. In my fogged vision, I saw people getting up to fight with knives and various bladed weapons but the attackers, whomever they were, had guns and seemed to be far better strategized than these people. I glanced towards one that moved closer to me, kneeling down to where I lay to study me carefully.

I saw his mouth move and detected words coming from it. Towards the far back of my memory, he looked familiar, but I still couldn't connect the dots for where I might have seen him.

"Hey, I know this girl."

"Isn't she one of those Alexandrian assholes?"

"Yeah. This's Rick's other brat."

He grabbed a handful of my hair and lifted my head up. There was no pain I registered as I was held up. My body was completely unresponsive.

"Hey, you alive in there?"

"Ah she's bleeding pretty bad on her head there. They must've caught and brained her good. Doesn't look very responsive. Get her up and we'll see what Negan wants to do with her."

And then the darkness swallowed me up again.

I roused only a few times through it. Once I glanced to see myself lying off to the side as a dark figured strode up and down a line of blurry offset people. With a gesture of his hand shots were fired and the kneeling people fell to the ground. I think they were killed.

Next time I opened my eyes I was leaning on someone and I was in a vehicle or car. I could see a windshield in front of me while the headlights flashed across the darkness.

When I opened them again, a light was shining in my eyes and an unfamiliar voice was speaking again.

"She definitely has a concussion. She's not too responsive at the moment. I can at least bandage her up and see where we go from there. Give her maybe a day to recover with plenty of rest."

The final time I opened them I was much more lucid and my motor skills were back.

My eyes peeled apart the crust and redness to stare up at a ceiling I didn't recognize. Everything hurt and it was hard as hell to move. My back felt enflamed and my head throbbed. Once again, I was dehydrated and dizzy and so unbearably nauseous.

My mouth flooded with water and I felt something rush from my stomach. Oh no… I needed a bin!

I tipped on my side and heaved, but only a meager trail of saliva and bile came up. Everything… my whole body felt attacked!

My head especially hurt so freaking much. If I even tried to touch it, a wave of pain tore from it and my vision filled with white. I felt like I was spinning on a top and all I could do was try and brace myself till it slowed.

"You're up," came a voice from above.

"No, I'm not." I moaned feeling sick again.

There was an insistent ringing in my ears that made everything hard to understand. I could hear the words but the tone and sound of whoever was speaking was indistinguishable. Still… I felt that the voice was somewhat familiar.

"I see you made a mess on the floor. Is there something else wrong with you?"

I was feeling sick again and everything was still spinning. "Stop the room, already. I want to get off."

"That bad huh?" I felt the bed dip as someone took a seat beside me, "Well I'll get someone in here to take a look at you. In the meantime, I bet you're thirsty. Try not to chug it. You're smart enough to know it'll only make you worse."

A glass was put in my hands and I forced myself to take small tentative sips. The water soaked my papery mouth, filling me with instant relief to let me blink a few times. Little by little, the spinning stopped and with it, my vision cleared to let me notice my visitor for the first time.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, my heart leaping in my throat at the sight of Negan. Dad would never have let him anywhere near me! He must've forced his way through or intimidated Tobin enough to gain entrance. Something like that at least! "Dad never would have let you into the infirmary! Where is he?"

Negan looked a little stunned, then that freaking swaggering smirk was back on him. "Where do you think you are right now?"

By those words something in me clicked and my vision steadily improved while I began to notice my surroundings for the first time.

"This… this isn't Alexandria." It was daunting how much this room was nothing like the rooms back home. It was cold and windowless and I was lied out on a plain bed with scratchy sheets and thin felt blankets. There was a side table with some gauze and saline then two glasses and a pitcher of water. The only furniture within the room was the bed a cushioned chair and the side table, other than that there were no wall hangings or anything else inside it. I was so afraid of what it all meant for me that I didn't want to find out the truth for it. Negan unfortunately had no problem with verifying my worst fears.

"Nope. You're not in Alexandria, kiddo."

"Why? What am I doing here?" Faint flashes of the night before flitted through my head just then, but they were blurry and offset; more like scenes from a very hazy dream than anything concrete. The last thing I remembered clearly was walking off into the forest and then...

I was dragged by my ankle and pulled suddenly off my feet. I was hovering… no I was hung upside down. Slowly, it began to dawn on me that I had stepped into a trap and the last thing I saw was something ramming into the side of my head.

"It was you! You… set the trap and dragged me here!"

My heart hammered in my chest and I scrambled away from him, my back hitting the wall as I tried to put as much distance as I could between me and him. Pure terror filled every sense I had and it must have shown on my features very well as Negan's face changed with my alarm.

"Don't go jumping to conclusions."

Even as he said it, my mind was already leaping to the worst. What did they know? It wasn't possible they could have found out so suddenly! We had been so careful. Only the bare minimum of people knew. My own brother didn't even know!

"Why am I here? What are you planning?!"

He looked genuinely startled at that moment and held his hands away from me, careful to show that he was not about to do anything I didn't approve of.

"Whoa, Judy, I'm not going to hurt you? I don't work like that!"

I wasn't convinced though, and leapt out of the bed, stumbling as far from him as I could manage.

"I-I want to go back home—right now!"

His whole face looked deeply perplexed, like this was not what he'd been expecting at all. Maybe he had predicted anger or disgust at the least from me, but certainly not terror.

"God, you really think I'm going to hurt you."

"Why else would you have set that trap?" I demanded holding my arms to keep from quivering.

"I didn't set that up!" He fired back, throwing his hands in the air.

"Don't lie!" I yelled back at him, quite nearly hysterical at the thought. "What are you planning to do to me?"

"What makes you think I plan to do anything with you? What makes you think I even _want_ you here?"

Those words threw me completely off. Why wouldn't he want me here? I was the cure of course. Did this mean he didn't know? I took in his response and the obvious confusion he had with my reaction in all this. It slowly began to dawn on me that if Negan knew anything about the cure he would have been gloating about it by now, not standing and facing me like he looked completely clueless about why I was freaking out so much.

"Then… you didn't…"

"No! God no! I didn't set that up!" The idea looked like it disgusted him and the mere accusation seemed to have deeply offended him. "So, you can stop having an aneurism now! If I was planning to take you away I would have made sure your Dad knew you were with me, not stake out in the woods and snatch you up like some kind of shady child predator. If you haven't noticed already, I much prefer to do my business out in the open."

I wobbled there in the middle of the floor, confused and petrified. "Then why…"

"I'll get to that, but sit down. You look like you're about to fall over."

Shakily, I backed into the only chair, staying far from where he was still seated on the bed. If he was smart, he'd stay there and not approach me just yet.

"Alright so where to begin…" He crossed his arms while he started; the move seemed uncharacteristically guarded for him and from what I knew about him, he never needed to be guarded.

"We had heard some reports about some wild men running amuck out in the woods. They killed a few of my people. I sent a party to go after them, but they've picked up this unusual expertise for herding the dead. They were making a big fucking problem for me, so I went and found out where they were all staked out; got a few boys together, not as many as it took to bring your people to heal but enough to make a point. We weren't able to be lenient with these guys, though. One look at them and I could tell they were real sickos. You're so fucking lucky you were unconscious before you found out what kind of accommodations they lived in. You would have needed some serious therapy for that.

"Anyways we busted into their secret lair and once we brushed off their pawns we combed through the castle and a few of my men found _you_ , of all hostages, tied up and brained pretty bad. It was a good thing we made such a fucking commotion while we did it. You were stuck in a room full of helmet-spiked flesh-eaters and if they weren't so fucking attracted by the music our guns made they would have gnawed you down to the bone."

He let the words sink in before continuing and I felt a shiver run through me, but not in the way he probably thought. Those people knew I wouldn't have died. The walkers were just going to stay as far from me as they could. Rather… they had been used more like guards to keep others out than anything else, and the realization of that chilled me to the bones.

Negan went on though, and for once there was no humor or gloating at all in his expression; only a dark vengeful scowl that seemed hidden partially by shadow. "And as crazy as it sounds, you'll never understand the fury that swept through me when I found out they had you in there, tied up like some prisoner of war. That concussion wasn't the only mark they left on you, but it's quite clear you don't remember a whole hell of a lot that went down, so I'm not going to go into any more details than that. I'll spare your poor innocent mind from that torture a second time. After that, their fates were sealed."

He looked at me and the cold that rippled through his eyes made me want to shiver a second time. "You should be thanking me. Those people were about to do worse than kill you. And if they were about to do that to some kid like you, just imagine what they could have done to your people if left alive."

My whole body was petrified by the knowledge. I didn't know words to say that could respond adequately to that slew of information. I felt tainted just then. What had Negan meant by torture? I didn't feel any different than normal. I mean, sure I had some bumps and bruises, there were a few areas like my back and head that hurt worse because of the injuries, but nothing unexpected. What could he have meant? What did they do to me? What did he know that I didn't? As much as the thought bothered me I only stayed quiet. I was too afraid to ask.

Out of loss for anything else I merely kept my gaze down and my mouth closed. I didn't think I could open it again without being sick a second time.

After a long moment, Negan spoke again. "I can see this is a whole lot to take in. You're still pretty shaken up and you're having trouble digesting this shit-ton shock to your system. But before you go, you are going to use the measly bit of courtesy you can muster and thank me for saving your life. I don't think I need to remind you of what will happen if you don't."

The memory of our last conversation echoed in my brain and I swallowed, beginning reluctantly.

"…Thank you." I said, without expression.

"Thank you what?"

My teeth clenched behind my lips as I elaborated. "Thank you for saving my life."

He sat back on his hands, a smug smile gracing his face in a way that looked triumphant. With that expression, there was no way I was able to stop the slew of words that came next to correct his good mood.

"However, you've been perfectly clear with me today, so let me return the favor." I began with an identical expression and tone he had carried while he explained the events that led towards my unexpected attendance.

" **I am not in your debt.** " I stated firmly, looking him square in the eye. His smile dropped instantly with that statement and remained off the more I continued. "You did not kill those people to save me. You were not attacking their base to rescue me from anything. And you didn't execute them to avenge any crime that was committed towards my honor. They were a pest you were already exterminating. You preserved my life because it was convenient to save me and because letting me die would cause you a lot of problems with my family. I also find you good stuff. I didn't twist your arm or ask for your help in any way. Your actions are your own to live with for the rest of your life. If this truth hurts you, well tough! The truth was never kind to anyone and it makes no exceptions."

The room was left in a heavy silence while my statement hung in the air. We both stared at one another dead in the eye, neither intending to look away or break contact. It seemed like he was studying me after that announcement. Finally, he spoke and that same smirk that made me so damn angry was suddenly back.

"Fuck kid, even when I think I'm about to wring that scrawny little neck of yours I'm still somehow blown away by the enormous fucking balls you've got." He nearly laughed. "You've been through some fucked up shit just now. The typical psychological response is subservience and timidity, but you bounced back like a fucking rubber ball and remembered exactly who you are. Didn't scathe you one bit now, did it?" His gaze transformed to resemble something like longing. "Fuck, I wish I had a son like you."

My insides turned to knots and I couldn't conceal the unwanted blush that swept over me with those words. More than anything I hated it when he complimented me. It made me feel uncomfortable.

His expression seemed to change thoughtfully just then. "You were terrified before when you thought I was the one who set that trap. Why was that, sweetheart?"

He was getting smart and suspicious; time to bluff then.

"I was worried. If you intentionally set it then that meant you had plans for me or whoever fell in it, and I don't think I'd like to find out what those plans could be."

"I thought you knew me better than that. You really think I'd be interested in you that way?" Once again, he looked incredibly insulted. "Really, Judith, do you honestly think so little of me?"

"Were you expecting me to think highly of you?"

His smile wilted away. "You've only been here for ten minutes and I'm already tired of your attitude, but I still want something for saving your life."

"I am not…"

"Bullshit you're not in my debt!" He snapped. "I just saved your life and brought you back here to a practiced doctor to examine and be sure you weren't brain dead! All while your own daddy probably had no idea where you even were. So, I'm going to get something out of you one way or another!"

My teeth clenched behind my pursed lips in fury. "I'm already paying you with something increda-fucking-ble (as you put) when you come back in a few days. I don't care what you say, I don't owe you anything for this!"

"Don't get your fucking panties in a twist, girlie!" He shouted at me. "I'm not asking for the moon here—nothing you can't give me right now! So, stop having a fucking tantrum!"

I went silent.

I wasn't going to play this game with him and I wouldn't start by asking what he wanted. Asking would be admitting I needed to thank him, and I would never do that. He seemed to be waiting for just that though, but was waiting in vain. Finally, he looked to the side thoughtfully, as a new thought entered his mind.

"I didn't see you in the last school program your town held. Why might that be?"

"I'm not allowed in school programs anymore."

"And why again is that?"

My face burned with the memory he had been present for and I fiercely wanted to cuss him out for bringing such a humiliating fiasco up.

"My singing voice shatters windows and the teacher dislikes my face." I improvised sarcastically.

He laughed, "No that's not it. I know better. Why was it again? Oh, I remember; didn't you get into a fight with the main character right on stage?"

" _Hey_ , now she started that!" I snapped immediately. As relieved as I was not to take part in those demeaning performances, it irritated me to no end how people associated that incident as _my_ fault when Lizzie was the one to open her mouth and throw out insults in the first place.

He chuckled at the thought and the sound of it made me want to throw something at him. "Of course, she did. I'm not arguing that. I was there after all. But I gotta say, I was a little disappointed you didn't finish that adorable little song you were singing."

"I forgot the words." I huffed, crossing my arms indignantly. "I do that with dumb songs."

"Of course, but even so… I think I'd like to hear something from you. So… sing me a song."

I looked back at him, embarrassment flaring across my face once again.

"I don't like singing… _around_ other people." I complained. "It feels weird and stupid. I'm not a canary here!"

"For the moment, you're _my_ fucking canary. It doesn't have to be that stupid song, if that's what you're concerned about. Just a song. So, get to it."

I looked at him in challenge. "So, what? You're going to throw a hissy-fit 'cause I decide not to give you Beethoven's fifth?"

"Maybe you'd like to see what I could do to your town when we get back there if you continue to test the boundaries of my patience. I've been tolerant enough with you and all you've done in return is act like an ungrateful little shit. I think a song is the least I'm owed. Like I said before, it's not the moon and it's not coming out of your hide." Then his eyes narrowed and he suddenly looked three times as dangerous. "Sing me a fucking song, brat."

My mouth snapped shut as my heart hammered. So, that's how it was going to be then? I couldn't think of any songs to sing, or at least nothing that would be appropriate and most I couldn't remember all the lyrics to. It was all mostly Disney songs, American Patriot songs and Spice Girls. If I was going to be forced to be his songbird I was going to make him regret it.

But what song did I know that would do that? My mind worked for a good one.

Just then John popped up in my head; my friend from so long ago. When he lived at the cottage he'd often sing out absently. He was a good singer and his voice was rich and poetic. He often hummed ballads or old folk songs from out of nowhere, some of which he got from books and novels, adding whatever tune sounded best to them. One in particular had always entranced me. He had pulled it from a series of novels about knights and thrones and the sound of it still echoed in my head when my thoughts turned towards my old friend.

It was a song that seemed to me to speak of defiance and that was the song I wanted. My mouth opened and the echo of the somber tune filled the room.

"And who are you"  
the proud lord said,  
"That I must bow so low?"

"Only a cat of a different coat,  
That's all the truth I know

In a coat of gold  
Or a coat of red  
A lion still has claws

And mine are long and sharp, my lord  
As long and sharp as yours!"

And so he spoke,  
and so he spoke  
That lord of Castemere

And now the rains weep o'er his halls  
With no one there to hear

Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls  
With not a soul to hear!"

Negan looked at me as the last of the tune faded with the last word. It didn't look like he was very pleased with my song selection, that or my musical talent was worse than I had predicted. Well I don't take requests and he just said "a song". If he didn't like it, he should be more specific with his word choice.

"Pretty…" he muttered, with suppressed annoyance. "Let's get you the fuck back to Alexandria before I really do something I'll regret, like wring your insubordinate neck. I don't think I can stand you here a fucking moment longer."

"Well that makes two of us then." I said following behind him.

Once outside, I looked around to find myself observing the remains of what looked to be an old radio tower. Something seemed to tell me that this was not in fact the fabled "Sanctuary" these people gathered at. There were fewer people than should have been expected and there was no seen fence or storage unit to keep all the shit they'd been gathering from us for years.

"This isn't your real base." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"I'm not taking you there just yet." Negan said flatly. "I don't think I could count on you to keep it secret."

He was smart to believe that. If my dad didn't already know where it was you could bet I'd tell him. Maybe he didn't want to fight these monsters _now_ , but someday that might change and then he'd need all the information he could get.

Still, least I knew where this outpost was. I had been sure to remember as much as I could, including where the armory looked to be. Even with a healing concussion and as dizzy as I was, I still remembered to take as many mental notes as I could. When I got home I would need to draw a good map of what I remembered.

I staggered over my feet as a sudden wave of mental pain nearly blinded me completely, causing me to bump into a stack of crates. I'd come to the conclusion that concussions were awful and my semblance of stability tilted more and more even while I tried to steady myself.

"You gunna be able to walk on your own?" Negan said in concern.

"Yes." I stated immediately. Walk it off. I just had to walk it off. "I can find my way back if you point me in the right direction."

The words seemed to jar him just then, as if the idea was completely barbaric. "Fuck, you think I'm just going to give you a knife and a book of matches and just let you find your way back home on your own?"

I looked up at him. "No. I don't expect a knife _or_ matches."

"I don't doubt your skills for survival, sweetheart. You're a fucking badass, there's no denying that by now, but you don't have your typical layer of armor today and you'll have to walk through at least twenty miles of biter-infested woods before you make it back to your home town, sugar."

"I'll walk _fast_."

That was easier said than done, though, especially when I didn't realize I was barefooted until something stabbed me in the foot.

I gasped sharply when the glass cut into me, holding my bleeding foot up and leaning against the wall of the building to try and bite back several strings of curses.

"Ah shit!" Negan said, realized what had just happened when he saw the blood dripping from the sole of my foot. "Who the fuck left glass everywhere?!" He yelled to his men. He wasn't really looking for an answer as he turned back to me. "You alright, Judy? Fuck, sorry about that."

I ignored him, silently pulling out the glass on my own, cringing with the combination of pain and the sight of the drippy red mess. It hurt so freaking much, but I refused to cry in Negan's presence. I could do that on my own time, but not in front of him—no freaking way!

"Guess I forgot you didn't have shoes on."

I resisted an enormous urge to snap at him for that. I only wore shorts and a small t-shirt so how could he possibly not notice I didn't have my usual cowgirl boots? From what I knew about him, the jackass most likely planted that glass there so I'd have to walk all over it. I wasn't going to believe for one second that it'd been an accident.

"Where are my boots?" I asked trying to distract myself from the pain.

"You didn't have any when we got you outta that place."

My teeth clenched in frustration. "Of course not." Boots my size were hard to come by and I had really liked those ones. I couldn't do my work in flip-flops! Just one more thing I now had to replace again.

Way before I could protest, Negan had picked me up and carried me, to my immediate horror.

Instinctively I kicked out, feeling worse in his arms than I did when the glass speared me. "ACK! NO! Keep your grubby hands to yourself!"

"Stop that, or I'll kick you back!" He commanded, for which I reluctantly went still. "Now before you start complaining again and making a big fucking fuss, let me ask you if you want to cut up your last good foot, because there's plenty of glass around to do just that?"

I was so angry about the treatment, mostly because he read my mind at once. The moment I realized what he was doing, I freaked and tried to shove out of his arms but with his threat and the promise that I would cut up my remaining foot otherwise, I went still. It sucked and I was once again put on the spot for another instant of total humiliation dealt by him.

If my hate were fire, Negan would have been cold ashes by now.

He carried me up to one of his many trucks and pulled the door opened to set me inside. I wanted to scoot as far from him as I could but he circled around and got in on the other side while a different man took up the driver's seat and started up the engine.

I had to sit there in the middle, wedged between both of these hated men as we drove down the road towards my home. The ride was unbearably long but thankfully Negan nor the other man felt it necessary to fill the silence with conversation. I didn't want to talk or listen to either if I could stand it. So, we sat there in silence, merely watching as the landscape changed before gradually becoming familiar.

"You can stop right here." I told the driver, once we'd reached the interception a half mile away from the gates. "I can walk the rest of the way."

"Are you telling my man what to do, Judy?" Negan said threateningly. "Because it sounded as if you were trying to give orders right there."

"I was suggesting that I can walk the rest of the way so you don't have to waste precious gas on a trip just to drag my sorry little ass back home."

"Someone sounds embarrassed to be getting dropped off at school with the teacher." He said smugly.

When we got to the gates they honked once and were immediately admitted inside. I saw Dad a ways off, looking frantic while deep in conversation with Michonne and Aaron. His attention turned at the sight of the trucks and he must not have seen me through the glare cast on the windshield glass because I could visibly see him pinch the bridge of his nose in a gesture that obviously stated he did not was to deal with whatever Savior crap was directed to him right now.

Negan's smirk was back as he got out, greeting my dad with his typical cocky assholery.

"Nice to see you, Rick. Now you'll never guess what I've got for you today."

I saw his jaw clench. It was just as humiliating for us to receive anything from these people as it was to provide them with resources because it implied we could possibly need them. I moved out on my own, refusing any held offered to me, because I wasn't going to let my dad see me being supported by these people. It was bad enough they were bringing me back that I wouldn't accept help getting out of a truck.

"Judith!" He said in shock, staring in horror at the state I was in. Dad looked ready to run up and embrace me but I took a shaky hop back on my only good foot, indicating I did not want to be held at that moment by him.

Defiant and strong; that's what I needed to be around these people.

"I'm fine," I answered before he could ask what had happened.

Something seemed to flash in his eye just then and he turned on Negan, grabbing him from around his collar and slamming him against his truck. The move took everyone by surprise and every Savior surrounding had their guns instantly pointed at Dad.

"What the fuck did you do to her?!" He hissed, looking bloody prepared to tear Negan's head off. It had been so long since I'd seen him ready for a good fight that I couldn't move for a moment, transfixed by the fire stoked in his eyes. At that moment, I almost wanted him to do it—to kill the bastard once and for all, consequences be damned. "Why the fuck do you have my little girl bandaged and bloody in your truck, you motherfucker? Did you fucking lay a hand on her?"

As much as it detested me, I knew I needed to step in. Letting my dad kill their leader when his men were perfectly ready to fill him with lead would not have been the smartest strategy.

"It wasn't him." I growled reluctantly. His eyes turned to me but his grip on the other man did not loosen, even when I continued. "Someone set up a snare outside the walls and I sprung it. They knocked me out and brought me back to their base. The Saviors were attacking it when they found me there."

I was very careful not to use any terms indicating that the trap had been meant specifically for me nor had the Saviors intentionally rescued me.

Right out of nowhere Negan seemed to find his opportunity to escape from Dad's hold and rammed his fist hard into his gut, taking him entirely off guard and winding him. I'd say this for Negan, he was bigger than my dad by quite a significant amount and he knew how to use the muscle he had. Right now, he was using it in all its capacity to bring my father to kneel.

I screamed when Negan rammed his fist repeatedly into his stomach, winding him the first time, making him vomit the second time, and completely incapacitating him the third time. To add salt to the wound his fist slammed hard into his face and threw him to the ground, dazed and bleeding badly from his mouth.

I limped on my only good foot over to him, trying to help him up. As I tried to pull him into a sitting position at the very least, Negan spoke again, looking down at both of us with distain. The look he gave me while he looked down on us sent a shiver down my back. I would never forget that look.

"We only came here to drop little miss Judy off so she wouldn't have to walk through miles of biter-infested woods even if she was super into it. I had better hear a fucking thank you, Rick! I only saved your precious daughter's ungrateful hide and you have the gall to say we don't do anything deserving of your shit! How 'bout just protect you assholes from the savages out there. The next time I think I'll just let them invade and kill all of you fuckers one by one!"

I had a few choice things to say about that but wisely chose to keep my mouth shut, as had the crowd that had formed with the Saviors' arrival.

Negan adjusted his gloves and turned to go. "We'll be back in five days just like I promised and like I promised you had better get me something really fucking incredible, Judy Bloom, or you'll be saying goodbye to a few citizens."

At his command, the Saviors loaded back into the single truck and drove away, leaving just to return in five days. My heart hammered and I could feel the weight of the deadline. If I didn't hurry the fuck up and find something soon, Negan was going to take the Waifs. The possibility nearly crushed me with terror right then and there.

For the moment though, I needed to concentrate on more dire, immediate things.

So instead, I concentrated on my dad. He was the one that needed me most at that moment. I poured all my focus into him and helped get him on his feet. Michonne was there in a flash though, and took his weight from me while someone else tried to attend to my own infirmity instead.

Mari was at my side from out of nowhere looking me over in horror as she gauged the state I was in. Normally she and her sister and brother tried to be nowhere in sight during visits from the Saviors, and Eric, Aaron, and I all encouraged them to keep it up. However, it looked as though she had emerged from their regular hiding spot to see how the few days absent from home had left me.

Her terrified gold-amber eyes made a deep guilty feeling creep into my gut as she took in my swollen face, bandaged head, bruised limbs, and bleeding foot. She looked just as pretty as she did every day and knowing that she was worried like that over _me_ sent strange spikes of energy into my chest.

"What happen?" She asked, in that beautiful accent of hers. "You are hurt."

"I had a bit of a run-in with some wild men." I answered quickly, "It just looks worse than it really is. I'm alright… mostly. Really I am."

Without another word, she dodged under my arm and helped me hobble to the infirmary just a few paces behind Dad and Michonne.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Yep! I used Rains of Castamere from a Game of Thrones as the song Judith sings for Negan. I'm a die-hard GOT fan, though I haven't read the books (shocker) I know the lyrics are in a Storm of Swords, which was published August 8, 2000, many years before the television series for both Game of Thrones and the Walking Dead came out. I imagine the tune of the song would probably be a little different in that instance but still. **

**And I want to make it perfectly clear that Judith has NOT read any of those books! Even if she profoundly denies it, she is still a little girl and reads novels that little girls would read. George R. R. Martin is not an author whose writing she pours over!**

 **The scene and this chapter was definitely influenced by Carl's visit to the Sanctuary and I know I kind of stole that scene from him, but since Judith stopped him from trying to kill Negan those many years ago the instance sort of never took place with him. Plus, I always intended to try and work in a rescue scene with Negan and Judith to demonstrate just how an experience would affect both of them and the two scenes just sort of _merged_ with one another.**

 **Don't forget to leave a comment and review. Luv ya all!**


	32. Where the Wild Things Are

**Chapter 32  
Where the Wild Things Are  
**I lied out on a cot in the infirmary, with Dad propped up on the opposite of me. Tobin looked over Dad while (to my disappointment) Lizzie examined me. She was the new infirmary apprentice and had just started her tutoring a few days after her graduation from standard school.

And I was her reluctant first patient.

"Jeez," she commented, picking out whatever glass shards I had missed from my foot with tweezers. "I thought they fixed you up at the very least."

"Don't insult me!" I snapped at her with my arms folded over my chest stubbornly. "I'd never consciously accept their help."

"So, you'd rather just walk around with glass in your foot like this?"

"Better than being in their debt."

She huffed at my logic, obviously believing she knew better. "See, this is why you get into trouble, Judith," the older girl announced in that annoyingly haughty tone of hers. She was perfectly prepared for a lecture she must have been dying to give me. "Why do you always have to be so…"

"Shut your yap and patch me up!" I ordered angrily, before she could even warm up. "If I want commentary for anything I get it from the radio. _Your_ job is to fix me, not give your opinion about _my_ job!"

"Judith!" Dad said angrily. Even despite the pain throbbing in his head he was still conscious enough to reprimand my behavior. "That's enough out of you! You've done nothing but cause trouble for the last few days and I've had it. When we get home, we're having a serious talk."

My patience finally snapped at that point. I was so mad about everything that as much as I tried, I couldn't stop the sea of words that came out of my mouth.

"Oh gee, honey." I began in a voice that was supposed to imitate my father's. "It's so good to see you're alive and not dead. I was really worried about you. If I'd gotten off my _ass_ a bit sooner, I'm pretty sure I would have been ready to save you if only Negan hadn't beaten me to it."

The room went very quiet while the words took their time to hit my father.

"What did you just say?!"

Just then Tobin and Lizzie exchanged glances. "You know what? I think I need to go see if I can find you some more gauze. Lizzie, why don't you come along?"

The two of them awkwardly left the infirmary and the moment the door was closed behind them Dad and I were yelling at each other.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"What the hell is wrong with _me_?" I repeated furiously. "What the hell is wrong with _you_?!"

"You marched off into the forest without any sense! Just like you always do! Did you even think for one moment—"

"I do nothing but think, Dad! I think about everything and never get a moment's peace! And are you really trying to say that getting kidnapped was _my_ fault!"

"I have told you repeatedly to STAY IN TOWN! BUT DO YOU LISTEN?"

"You told me that the situation with the Wolves had been resolved, but it sort of looks like it hasn't. We hadn't seen a trace of them for weeks!"

"That doesn't mean they've gone away! And I tell you again and again to take someone with you!"

"What does that matter? I've been out there on my own more times than anyone else! And that's not even the point! The point is that if I couldn't save myself YOU should have saved me! NOT NEGAN!"

His mouth snapped closed as he tried to formulate a comeback, but I wouldn't give him the chance.

"I know you're disappointed in me, but not nearly as disappointed as I am in you! You asked what was wrong with me, but what the hell is wrong with you?!" I rounded on him. "You made it look like we needed them, Dad; that we could ever _need_ them! But we don't. We don't need them to do anything for us! We fight our own wars even without goddamned guns! Our community is stronger than them in every way! We've suffered through more and overcome more and we'll keep on coming back more and more! You just won't give us the chance and now that we _actually_ have that chance—we have the best chance anyone will ever have—and you're not even going to use it! You let Negan scare you in the woods ONE TIME and it fucking neutered you!"

" **ENOUGH**!" I barely realized he'd moved until my face snapped to the side with a resounding CRACK. I palmed the place he had struck and looked back at him, angry but silent while he went on in a voice that seemed to tremble. "God damn it, Judith. You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Stop saying that! I'm sick of everyone matching my intelligence with my age! I'm not dumb and I'm not a child already!"

"Yes, you are!" He fired back pausing suddenly to cough.

"NO, I'M NOT!"

"You sure as hell act like it! I'm tired of having to tell you over and over again to do as you're told but you obviously don't listen to anyone but yourself! So, if you—" He trailed off as a coughing fit suddenly hit him.

"So, if I _what_?!" I demanded furiously, unmoved by his sudden coughing.

He tried to speak but spasmed, covering his mouth as he coughed. When his hand drew away there was blood covering his mouth. My heart leapt in my throat as I immediately forgot about our fight.

"Crap! Crap! Crap!" I said, hobbling over to support him while he coughed more and collapsed against me. "Tobin! Tobin! Get in here!"

* * *

"Internal bleeding." Tobin announced. After getting Dad to settle down in bed, Tobin had the chance to look him over. "I think he needs surgery."

"You _think_?" Michonne repeated in outrage.

"I'm not a real doctor! I never went to med school. I'm doing the best I can."

"And yet you are trying to teach Suzie McFly how to be a doctor when you don't even know how to be one yourself!" I snapped at him.

"Again," Tobin said carefully. "I am not a doctor! I'm a medic consult!"

"Which is a doctor!" I said angrily.

"The point is Rick needs surgery."

"So, we have to get him to Hilltop. Dr. Carson needs to do the surgery." Michonne realized.

"That would be the best thing, yes."

"Will he survive the journey?" I asked in concern. "It's pretty far, and we only have horses and wagons now with the gas all gone!"

"There's no other options. We'll have to make him as comfortable as possible and set out straight away."

* * *

It took only five minutes to get ready. I had to settle with a pair of worn-out heely sneakers that were two sizes too big for me and were hand-me-downs from one of the other kids in town. The wheels had gone missing years ago but I didn't suppose I was planning on rolling around with them all that much to begin with. The laces were braids of yarn and the soles were worn and imprinted with the old owner's foot shape. They felt like duck feet on me but it was all that was available and the best we could do on such short notice. The extended size would at least help with my healing foot.

Maybe I'd be able to find some new boots once we got out, though it wouldn't be our first priority. The most important thing was to get Dad to Dr. Carson. Everything else came second to that.

Returning with some necessities, I found Michonne, Carl, Rosita and Aaron getting Dad onto a wagon with two of our fastest horses to tow it.

Limping, I climbed in the cart next to Dad to monitor him while everyone else road on horses. And like that we were on our way.

* * *

It was a good thing we took the cart with the bicycle wheels. By way it was smaller, but it was also smoother, reducing bumps that lit up his wounds more than they needed to be. There were only a few herds on the way and thankfully they were small, allowing Michonne and Aaron to make quick work of them before we lost too much time.

I suppose under less dire circumstances we made good time, but it still took hours and Dad got worse before he got better by the time we made it to Hilltop. He was spitting up blood and every time I wiped it from his mouth I had to bite back a wash of disgust for myself.

If I had been a little less arrogant and sickeningly proud, this wouldn't be happening to him. If I'd done more thinking and less shouting and attacking and storming off, Dad wouldn't have been suffering this much. Though, I'd be a total idiot to believe it was _entirely_ my fault. It was just… the wrong tempers mixed together that did this-and Negan! It was always Negan's fault! If I could be sure about anything it was that the core of most our problems revolved around that thug.

When we finally made it to Hilltop, Doctor Carson didn't so much as pause or slow down.

Dad was carefully moved to the part of the mansion where the more severe traumas were operated on. While he and his assistants got to work, the rest of us were forced to wait until he was done, and it was a long tedious wait.

I leaned in a large cushioned chair in one of the many sitting rooms of the mansion while we waited anxiously. Maggie stood not far off with Hershel bouncing on her lap, sometimes offering reassuring words but not too many. We had learned long ago not to hope too hard for good news and to brace for the worst.

My head buzzed and throbbed, still recovering from the concussion subjected when I had been caught in that trap. Someone had given me pain killers for it earlier and it was a while before I felt any relief from them. By the time there was news about Dad I was being shaken awake, not even realizing I had dozed off.

Instead of Doctor Carson (whom I expected would give word about Dad's condition the moment he was able to), it was Michonne who was standing over me, talking gently. It was dark outside and I was no longer in the chair, but spread out on the sofa while a blanket had been thrown over me.

"What is it?" I snapped up, wiping the sleep from my eyes. "What happened? Is Dad alright?"

"Your dad is fine. He's been fine for a few hours, now." She said.

"A few hours?" I was betrayed. "Why did you wait to tell me? Why didn't you wake me up right away?"

"You needed some time to rest. You've been through a lot the past few days."

"I'm fine. How's Dad? I want to see him."

"He's resting right now."

I wanted to immediately go to him after those words, but the look Michonne gave me just then made me pause. It was so serious-so deadly stern. She only pulled an expression like that when she was about to convey the most crucial words we would hear.

"Judith, do you want help your father?"

The question took me aback.

"Of course, I do."

"And can you really divert whole herds?"

After years of obsessively hiding that information it felt so exposing to confirm those words. "…Yes. I can. They don't ever come near me. They don't ever hurt me."

The words seemed to bring her to some odd decision just then. "Alright then. We've got a bit of… scavenging we're going to be doing today. Are you up for it?"

"Yes." I announced quickly, hopping out of bed (too quickly apparently, since my mind fogged with head rush) and I reached for my shoes and cloak and followed her out.

When the cool night air greeted us outside I saw just the smallest bit of color on the horizon and realized dawn was not too far off. Apparently, they had all let me sleep the day away and the rest of the night with that. I didn't care though and found that Carl was waiting for us by two horses that were already saddled and ready to go for us.

I paused at the sight of him, unsure if Michonne had told him or not.

"We're going far today. Farther than we've ever gone." She confirmed, hoisting onto her animal and pulling me up to ride behind her.

"So, a family outing today?" I noted amusingly. "When was the last time we had one of these?"

"I can't even remember." Carl said, kicking his animal through the gates as they opened for us. His tone seemed uncharacteristically cold somehow. When he averted his eyes from meeting mine, I knew right then and there, that he knew the truth now.

I didn't have to be a mind reader to notice the waves of hurt and resentment emanating from him. There was no way I would be able to wrench the proverbial knife out of his back. My betrayal of his trust went deep. His own girlfriend knew the truth long before even him and it took another week after our parents found out, before he was finally made aware of what was happening in his own family; and after all that it hadn't even come from me.

We weren't really close, but I guess I could understand how he felt.

It was a sibling thing.

* * *

It was noon by the time we finally found out where we were headed. Between Hilltop and where that was, we had made only a few short stops along the way and ate only a small bit of rations Michonne had been granted by Maggie and Jesus before leaving.

My legs were sore and it turned out to be an unsurpassed joy to be allowed to stretch whenever we stopped for a bit.

Michonne brought our attentions just then to the land we would be looting today and my eyes widened at the sight of the vast city.

"Washington?" Carl breathed, taking in the glory of the once capitol of the United States.

I had been here only once around three years ago with my friend John, during the dead of winter when bodies were few and lethargic thanks to the frozen air. Now in the peak of summer, these creatures looked to be everywhere; active and hungry.

"We're going deep in there today." Michonne announced. "Judith, I want you to take point and drive any who approach away from us. Carl and I can take out any stragglers."

My eyes went big and I look at her like she had just handed me a treasure map that only I can read. I felt my face split into a beaming grin and I moved to do exactly what she told me. Despite his bitterness towards my deception, Carl looked a bit uneasy at the idea; his big brother protective instincts kicking in with that plan.

"Mom, are you sure that's a good idea?"

"She'll be fine. She knows how to handle herself." Michonne affirmed.

"Yes, I can! I _can_ handle myself!" I was so overjoyed to be given this enormous responsibility that I was eager to say anything that would aid in easing whatever doubts they held.

Carl and Michonne both mounted the horses while I led them forward. This would be the first time anyone, apart from Aaron and Enid, would witness first-hand what I could do.

The first few walkers came forward as we were entering the outskirts, alerted by the whinnies and hoof beats of the horses. They started forward and I could feel both Michonne and Carl prepare to take them on if it became necessary.

Once the walkers caught sight of me though, they paused as usual before ambling away disinterestedly.

Michonne and Carl both breathed a sigh of relief and astonishment at the sight of it.

"So, it really is true." Carl murmured.

I cast them a proud sideways glance, elated to be wisely utilized now, but neither of them were smiling as they stared back at me. They were looking at me as if… afraid. My smile dropped and I faced forward with that. What was going through their heads? What did they think of me now?

We met more walkers as we progressed, most in herds reaching up to hundreds it seemed. I could easily understand why no one wanted to brave the cities with so many of these things populating them but at the sight of me, they all avoided us and we made our way leisurely through the streets to the less inhabited areas. From pictures left inside book and numerous movies, I had a fairly decent idea of how a big city like this was supposed to look, smooth and sleek and well-kept, with entire buildings made of shimmering glass, crowded streets full of loud traffic and pedestrians, and stores stocked with goods. Now it was quiet and overrun with life and death alike.

As odd as it was, it was somehow… beautiful. With no one to tame them, the gardens and yards that had been so carefully and obsessively kept when people had lived in them had grown over and smashed their way through the pavement. Now that there were no humans to hold dominion over them, the plants and wildlife had claimed the city for themselves. It had somehow become a strange wild jungle.

Many of the buildings within the outskirts of the city had been obviously looted, which meant we needed to go much deeper if we didn't want this trip to be for nothing. Of course deeper meant more walkers, but with me leading the way, they were easily warded off.

Eventually, we came to an Ace Hardware and a Walgreens that looked to be in fair condition. Carl and Michonne both dismounted. At Michonne's instruction, she positioned me between our horses and any approaching walkers that ambled our way as she and Carl forced the locked sliding doors opened. When there was a gap big enough for them to squeeze through, she turned to me.

"Alright, Judith. Me and Carl will go in, I need you to stay here and watch the horses. We'll be right back."

I frowned by this while they headed inside with no further word or explanation about it.

"Now I have a very important mission for you, Judith. I need you to stay here and _guard the car_ while we go into danger and find treasure without you." I muttered in a voice that was supposed to sound like my elder, feeling discarded. Even so, I took a seat on the pavement and kept a look out as ordered.

About ten minutes passed before they finally emerged with four carts in tow filled to the brim with items like toiletries and medicine. There was blood on Michonne's sword so the store must not have been as empty as expected.

We took turns loading the supplies onto the small wagon we brought along while one of us always remained alert for approaching walkers. If there were only a few of them at a time, Michonne and Carl took turns hacking away at them. If there were a lot, I stood in front and warded them away. With that system, our search continued. We went through homes, apartment buildings, and old businesses.

The single memory I had of visiting this city, swam in my mind as I took it all in, reminded constantly of my old friend and teacher. Two years and I could still feel the sting of his abandonment.

I missed him.

We searched countless buildings with me being the one that normally had to stay outside and watch our horses to be sure nothing came around and ate them.

Other than the walking dead and occasional wild dog, it didn't look like there was really any other inhabitants within the city. We found tons of stuff— _extremely_ useful stuff that most people hadn't seen for a really, really long time, like toilet paper, charged batteries, antibiotics (probably expired but the two adults still wanted to get them anyways), some new clothes, stationary and school supplies, towels, blankets, some books to expand our limited library, and a lot of boxes Michonne looked so happy to find which she dubbed "feminine products" to me when I asked about them.

Carl also found some boxes of what looked to be balloons but wouldn't explain more on them even when I asked. I noticed Michonne looked less than impressed when she caught sight of him hastily tucking them into his jacket pocket.

"They're not for me!" He tried to explain through a bright red face. "I heard a few guys were wanting some around town and stuff. They're not that ready to get started on families quite yet."

"What do they need balloons for to do that?" I piped up, while I shooed a group of dead bodies away.

Michonne and Carl both busted out laughing by that and I stood there staring at them, completely clueless about whatever inside joke I was not privy to.

"Judith, honey, they're not balloons." Michonne struggled to explain.

"Well what are they then?"

"I'll tell you when you're older."

I groaned. "Why do I need to wait for everything when I'm older?!"

"I know you don't really value your innocence, but your father and I do so when we say "when you're older" it's not to keep you deliberately in the dark but to reframe from blowing your young, fragile mind too early and breaking something in there."

I puffed up to my full height by that. "Try me." I challenged.

Michonne was shaking her head no, but Carl took the initiative and enlightened me before she could stop him. "It's something you wear during sex so you don't knock up your girlfriend and contract or spread an STD."

My eyes grew wide with horror!

" _What_?"

"CARL!"

"Hey, she wanted to know! She was going to find out sooner or later."

"She's only ten!"

"I went through things way worse than her when I was ten! The last horrible thing she could know about is the mechanisms of sex! At least that's natural!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone knew what he was talking about and exactly what he had endured when he was only ten.

No one spoke for a very long time, before I managed to turn our attentions to a shoe store across the street. I was in desperate need of some good boots for once and these sneakers were not viable working footwear. My old ones (before they were stolen) had been wearing out anyways.

Still would have been nice not to have lost them, though.

Michonne and Carl were more than happy to stop there. They wanted to leave me out with the horses again, but I had been left out of every store so far and insisted I needed to come in to get an idea of what would work best for me. The street and vast parking lot seemed to be empty enough at the time and if Carl met with any trouble he couldn't handle on his own he could call us for backup.

"Get me some Converse if you see any red ones." He called to us as we propped the door opened to hear him better during such an event. "I'm size 11, but they run kinda large so you might want to get a 10 just in case!"

"Will do."

We went down the aisles, browsing and debating what would work best. Michonne picked out a few pairs for other citizens around town and we managed to find Carl his Converses. In the end I found a pair of lace up brown combat boots that reached almost to my knees. I absolutely loved them.

When we finally came out again, there were four dead walkers at Carl's feet and he was looking at us impatiently.

"What took you so long?"

"Um… women shopping for shoes?" Michonne said, like it was all the explanation she needed to make. "How long did you think it was going to take?"

* * *

We had journeyed far into the city and dawn was only an hour away by the time we finally set up camp in an old mechanic's garage. It was a good choice since we could conceal the horses inside where they would be safe while we rested for the evening. There was a futon and a recliner we could spread out over while a fire blazed in a metal bucket proving heat and light as we ate some dinner.

"We'll start again in the morning." Michonne announced biting into some jerky and travel biscuit. "Get another early start and keep picking our way through it all. I can't believe all the stuff we've found, already."

"Do you think we'll be able to give some of it to Hilltop, too?" I asked.

"Yes. I think we'll have plenty to spare."

I watched the flames dance and wrapped a quilt we found tighter around me.

"How long do you think we'll be out looking? Remember we have a deadline."

"Maybe two more days. Enough to find plenty for our needs at least."

"And the demands of the Saviors." Carl added bitterly.

I cringed by that, hearing the double meaning in his words. I still needed to find something really impressive for Negan when he arrived again in a few days. What that would be, apart from giving myself up as the cure—I had no idea.

We said nothing but picked continuously at our dried meal, hearing nothing but the horses' huffs every so often along with the moans of the occasional walker that passed the boarded-up windows.

"This probably sounds a bit… stupid," Carl began, "But we're in our nation's capital (dead though it is now) would it be weird to… go sight-seeing a bit? I've always wanted to see the Lincoln monument. The White House would be nice, too, if it's still standing."

The was a momentary pause as this was considered. Michonne didn't look like she really wanted to stray too far from our initial mission, but I was much more eager about such an adventure.

"I've always wanted to see the Smithsonian. That might be pretty cool."

"There might not be anything left. It'd probably been looted by now or in ruins for all we know. It might be best to keep on track here. We can save the sight-seeing for another day."

"Oh come on, Michonne." I pleaded. "I still need to get Negan something incredible and it'd be awesome to stuff something impossibly one-of-a-kind in his stupid, ugly face and wipe that sickening, smug smile off that fucking ass-butt once and for all!"

"Hey language, young lady." Michonne snapped.

I groaned by the nagging. "If I can't use language like that then people should stop using that language around me! I'm so young and impressionable, after all."

Carl snorted loudly, unable to hide his laughter with that announcement.

"Yeah… you're real impressionable, Judy."

I cast him an innocent puppy-eyed look by that, propping my chin with my hand and tilting my head demurely towards him. "I am, aren't I?"

This time we all laughed, none of us able to contain ourselves with that announcement.

"Oh yeah, we really need to screen ourselves around you. After all, just today you had no idea what tampons or condoms were."

"I… I actually _still_ don't know what tampons and condoms are."

"A few more years and then we'll tell you."

"Fine."

We shared a few more laughs and anecdotes as we eased in our seats, overcome by a very secure feeling just then.

"This is nice." I noted wrapping the quilt tighter to me. "I wish Dad was here."

We all went quiet by that thought.

"Yeah, but we'll be back soon." Carl assured. "And we'll have supplies with us."

"I wanna get him a souvenir." I decided. "To tell him about the day we had and all that. He was angry before but I'll bet he won't feel too bad about this arrangement once he sees what we brought back."

Carl looked over at Michonne eagerly. "Well it looks like we might have to go sight-seeing after-all now, if we want to get him that souvenir. What do you say, Mom?"

She grumbled under her breath, still not entirely sure about the idea.

"You're safe so long as you stay in my peripheral bubble." I tried to explain. "The walkers won't bother us if I'm in range and they can see me. And if it makes you feel better we could take extra precautions along with that. Everything went very well today, after all."

"We might do better if we kept the horses here with plenty of water and grass to eat." Carl suggested. "If we can find a map to tell us where to look then we'll only be gone a while."

She still looked like she was struggling with the idea, so I folded my hands and pulled off the cutest puppy-dog eyes I could muster.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeease!"

Michonne finally seemed to cave. "Ugh—fine. But we start early and we take a shopping cart in case we find more supplies."

"That sounds reasonable."

I punched the air in triumph. "Yes! This's going to be awesome! Unless it's not because there's nothing left of anything we want to see."

"Geeze, Judy, don't jinx it. Hurry up and knock on wood."

I did so, wrapping my knuckles against the chair he sat on.

"Alright, bedtime." Michonne declared taking up the first shift as look-out while Carl and I spread out on the futon till our turns came. "Early start, early bedtime. Get some shut eye now. I'll wake you in three hours for your shift, alright Carl?"

"What about me?" I asked.

"He'll wake you up after." She promised.

I yawned curling up in the quilt and settling down to take sleep while it was offered. I really believed I could get used to this.

Treasure hunting was fun.

* * *

 **Author's notes:** **I want to dedicate this chapter to desireecarbenell to thank you for reviewing and liking my story so much. I loved reading your reviews they were exactly what I was hoping for when I asked for reviews and comments about what you think of the story so far and I will take this time to answer some of the questions you have.**

 _ **Where is Daryl? Where is Carol?**_ **Daryl is unfortunately still with the Saviors for all anyone knows at this time. Since Judith stopped Carl from going after Negan and attempting to kill him, all the events proceeding that failed mission never occurred and so Daryl never found his opportunity to escape.**

 **Carol lives in that little house near the Kingdom, living her life as a hermit as she had intended.**

 _ **Does Judith just have a girl crush or is she gay?**_ **Judith actually doesn't know what sexual orientations like gay or straight is exactly. She's never grown up with terms like that thrown around her. She grew up around Aaron and Eric as well as Tarra and Denise (before she was killed by Dwight) and sees them as people simply being in love. Although it's not as common among the other families, it's never occurred to her that it was ever different from the other relationships. It was just love, as far as she was concerned.**

 **Even if she did know about those terms, I'm not sure if she would identify with either. For the moment all she knows is that she's attracted to Mari because she holds certain aspects that Judith finds attractive. It also helps that Mari hasn't grown up with Judith so she's not entirely aware of her unpopular history among the other peers around town. So that makes her even more welcoming to Judith in the sense that she doesn't have that biasness that Judith has come to associate with town kids.**

 **Clean slate, in other words.**

 _ **Who was Lucille?**_ **There was a sort of subcomic for the Walking Dead that went full-depth into Negan's origin story explaining where his infamous barbed wire bat got its name from and why he's, more or less, such a fucking psycho. Lucille was actually his wife—his first wife before zombies and all that. She died of cancer right when the peak of all this crazy shit started. I don't want to give anything away but Lucille will become pretty important in later chapters.**


	33. Always With Me

**Chapter 33  
Always With Me  
**

Sometime in the night I woke unexpectedly. I wasn't sure what had prompted me awake in the first place, my eyes were merely blinking open a moment later without any explanation. Then I realized the fire was out. I didn't think much of it, though, and dismissed it to try and get a few more hours of sleep before my shift on watch. When I rolled over, though, my gaze swept over the outline of Carl's silhouette against the darkened window. For some reason he was pressed tight against it, watching something that held his rapt attention. I could also hear voices.

My heart in my throat, I got up and drew closer.

"Carl?" He jumped as I neared him, holding a pistole we had found earlier at the ready. "What is it?"

He relaxed at the sight of me and turned back to the window. "I thought I heard voices or a moment."

"So, did I."

"That's a relief. Thought I was going crazy for a minute."

I followed his gaze, seeing only walkers moving around outside, and there were a lot. Anyone wandering around out there, did so at the risk of their own life. I took a seat next to him. "Do you think there's anyone actually out there, or was it just a bunch of walkers, simultaneously moaning together and it just sounded like talking?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. After all I've seen so far, I'd believe almost anything, by now."

We shared a quiet moment as we stared out the window together, wrestling with our own thoughts. The guilt of neglecting to tell him the truth about me ate me up and I knew I'd find no peace until I came clean to him.

"I'm sorry." I finally said. "For not telling you about it."

I didn't have to elaborate. He knew what "it" meant.

I studied his face, and it seemed like he was debating on whether he would forgive me for the deception.

after a moment he just sighed wearily. "It's alright, I guess. I mean, I get why you didn't want it advertised. It really changes the game for us."

"Yeah it does. Still… I should have told _you_ at least."

"Why me?" His head tilted in confusion and I kept my gaze on the darkness outside, consciously avoiding eye-contact.

"Well… I don't know. Because I guess I want to feel like I can tell you anything. You're my protective big brother, after all."

He turned away, looking back outside again as he weighed my statement.

"Don't." He said at last.

I looked up, confused. "Don't what?"

"Don't trust, Judith." He explained. There was a note of bitterness inside him with those words. "Don't trust anyone. It's just safer that way. _You'll_ be safer that way."

His words took me by surprise. Surely, he didn't mean that himself. I mean I could trust Dad and Michonne and him at least. "Carl…?"

"Sorry," He said, shaking something like a bad memory from his mind. "It's just… too many things, you know? Too many disappointments."

We turned our attention back to the window, watching the shadows of walkers moving about outside. They really were a lot active at night.

"Do you really think there could be anyone out there?" I asked after a moment.

"I'm not sure. Maybe they've got blood-cloaks on."

"I think they'd need something stronger than blood-cloaks for that mob out there."

He only managed a small chuckle. My head leaned against the cool brick of the wall while I considered him. "Are you worried?"

"…I'm always worried." He admitted. "It never goes away, I just sort of learn to function with it."

"Do you think we should go home tomorrow, instead of going sight-seeing?"

"I dunno. It's probably nothing." He seemed to deeply want to be wrong about it. "Most of the time it's nothing."

"What's your gut telling you?"

He looked towards me. "Honestly? That it's nothing. That I'm overreacting due to paranoia. That I heard something that isn't there."

"Is that what you really feel or what you want to feel?"

"…Both?"

We shared a moment of silence. "I do want to go sight-seeing tomorrow, but it kind of feels like we should get back."

"Don't you have to find something incredible for Negan?"

"…Yeah." I muttered, glaring at me knees for the reminder. "I hate him."

"I do, too."

"Sometimes I think about that day… when you were going to kill him. Sometimes I wish I hadn't stopped you."

"I think about it all the time, too." He looked at his own knees. "I'm glad you stopped me. If you hadn't… You were… you were right. I never would have been able to kill him. It was stupid. I'm not a fucking assassin now and I was even less one back then. I would have died, and if I didn't, Negan would have come back here and did just what you said he would do; kill an innocent. Maybe he would have come back to kill you. Who the fuck knows?"

I glanced back outside, studying a corpse as it limped along, looking his tattered janitor uniform and wondering what sort of life he had had when alive. He was someone's family at one point. He had a job, maybe he even had kids. Were they still alive? Did they ever wonder about him? Or were they just wondering around the same as him now?

"I wish Dad were here. It doesn't feel right being out here without him."

Carl sighed. "You want to know a secret? Every time one of us leaves I can't stop worrying that something will happen back home or out here in the wilderness and we'll end up never seeing each other again."

"Don't worry." I assured him, knowing what he was worrying about right now. "Dad's fine. He's recovering. We'll see him when we get back. Trust me, Carl. I'd know if he was dead."

"Oh right… you're magical sixth-sense witch powers." Even after all these years he was still getting used to that. "See any ghosts right now?"

"No. I don't see them as often as I used to. Maybe because I'm… growing up—I don't know. They just don't visit as often anymore."

"Beth, Hershel, Glenn… Mom?"

"Beth and Hershel are quiet these days… nice and distant and quiet. Glenn's gotten worse over the years. I should do something about it, but I'm always afraid that killing Negan—avenging Glenn and Abraham, would just open up a whole bunch of other problems. What if Negan started haunting me the way the Governor haunted Michonne?"

"He's still around?"

"Not anymore at least. I banished him. Glenn refuses to go, though. It's harder when there's something linking them here… family and their killers and stuff. Maybe I'm just not enough witch to finish the job."

"Better witch than any I know about."

I managed the smallest of smiles towards that, but it didn't improve my downed mood all that well.

"Judith… have you talked to Mom lately?" There was a deep agonizing longing in his tone. He never asked about the people I saw, no one did. It was just too painful for them. But hearing him ask about it now, I could tell there were things he wanted to say that he never got the chance to before she left him for good. But lately, it felt like I was seeing them less and less.

I looked away, feeling tears burn my eyes. The last time I had seen anything of her was over half a year ago. "Not for a long time. The last time I spoke to her… I asked her if it was okay if I started calling Michonne Mom the way you do."

The silence between us was unbearably tense. It was easy for Carl to call Michonne that, but for me… I had wanted to call her it my whole life, but having the spiritual presence of our mother hanging over my shoulders constantly made it impossible. It felt like… I was insulting her memory. She died to have me after all and… it felt like I owed it to her to always see her as nothing less than the mother figure that we would have had if she ever had that chance. But I couldn't just ignore how Michonne stepped up to that place. There was no expectation from her to do that, she just did it, and it seemed as though she now had equal claim to that title as much as Lori ever did.

A lump formed in my throat while I tried to explain. "It's just… she's earned it, you know. She's been there and she's always taken care of us… but when I asked Mom about it…" The memory made me choke and the tears couldn't be held back anymore. " _Carl_ … I don't think she's with me anymore."

I saw his eyes water. My own statement seemed to have brought him to tears right with me. He didn't say anything. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe sometimes you can't say anything but lean over and just hold someone. The same way my brother and I leaned forward and held each other, trying to share comfort and sorrow while we cried.


	34. Written in Stone

**Chapter 34**  
 **Written in Stone**

We took turns taking small naps while we let Michonne sleep straight through her next shift. Then after a few hours the sun was finally up and we were getting ready for the long day ahead.

Just before leaving we actually decided on taking the horses with us at least till we reached the Capitol Mall, since there was still quite a distance between where we were and our destination. Plus, simple shopping carts were not expected to be big enough when we found more stuff on our way. And we found _a lot_ of stuff.

We scored big time when we came across a whole gun store, almost entirely untouched. Firearms, ammunition, blades, and all kinds of weapons abound greeted our eyes. It was so much more than we could have hoped for. I just about wanted to cry with our wonderful luck; Michonne and Carl just about did, too.

"This is great." Michonne announced. "These guns are going to mean so much when we get home."

But there still remained a dilemma. "Will we be able to hide all these from Negan and his men? What if they start looking through houses again?"

"We've gotten better at smuggling since three years ago, Judith. I think we'll find a way."

I grinned brightly by that.

By the time we finally made it to the National Mall, our single horse-drawn cart was piled so high with things that it stood over me with supplies and weapons abound. The horses looked extremely happy when we finally let them rest again in another garage same as the night before. I can't say how many times we checked and rechecked the building to be sure it was clear and safe to leave them there for a few hours of sight-seeing. We left them water and feed, taking care to reinforce the doors as strong as possible to make sure nothing got through while we were away.

"We'll be right back, girl." Carl vowed, stroking the nose of his charcoal-colored mare, Pepper. "You can relax here with Apple and get a few more hours to catch your breath before we head out again. We'll be back soon."

And with that we sealed and reinforced the doors and started on our way.

About a block down, Michonne pulled out an old tourist map. "I found this in a car a way's back. Thought it might be nice to check off all the stuff we see." It was bright and colorful, listing off the biggest things to see like this was any other typical vacation outing. The first attraction we came to was the Albert Einstein Memorial. It was much different from the photograph taken over a decade prior. The bronze was rusted and there were vines and vegetation growing all over the shrine dedicated to one of the brightest minds that ever lived.

I looked up in strange curiosity. It was so much bigger than I expected it to be and the statue was blobby, like someone molded it from clay instead of metal. He looked like a giant that had submerged himself in mud and then sat down on some white steps. There was a book in his hands marked with his greatest mathematical equations and his signature.

"How long are we supposed to stand here appreciating it?" I asked Michonne after a while.

"It seems disrespectful not to give it at least a decent three minutes. There's supposed to be a small eulogy around here."

"If the dead haven't eaten it by now, the plants probably did." Carl announce.

"Yeah, zombies eat people and plants eat memorials. We shall all be erased from time one way or another."

Michonne and Carl both looked over at me with wide sort of horrified expressions. "Geeze, you want to get a little darker there, Judy?"

"I got goosebumps with those words."

"I think I sort of gave _myself_ goosebumps with those words." After admiring Einstein for a few moments more we continued on our way again. The next on the pamphlet was the National Academy of Science, an enormous building that looked too big to really explore entirely and still make it back before dark. There were also the remnants of an old rusted pickup truck that had rammed in the side of it, blocking the main entrance and making most attempts at getting in inconvenient. It wasn't on our top list of things to see anyways so we stuck a pin in it and just moved on.

There was the long Vietnam Veterans Memorial that we spent a good deal of time browsing and appreciating. It seemed to have held up nicely despite its age, though there were parts that seems to have flaked off thanks to time and neglect and without someone to take care of the lawn, the grass had grown wild atop the hill it was built into and hung over the smoothed stone like shaggy hair.

As we had come to notice all over town, this place had not been spared the skeletons of people that had met their ends here during the earliest days of the blight. We left that sight and passed various other statues and monuments till we reached the one Carl had been most excited to see.

"Well… there he is." He proclaimed.

We all stood before the giant of Abraham Lincoln, sitting on his marble throne as he looked down upon maybe the first living people he had beheld in a very long time.

There weren't as many plants as I had come to expect to be around this place, but that didn't mean age had not taken its toll on the temple.

One of the columns was crumbling away and others held various cracks along them. There were a few skeletons around here as well, along with the remains of a few rusted vehicles that had collided at the steps and with one another, leaving them useless and forgotten.

At least the words could still be read:

IN THIS TEMPLE  
AS IN THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE  
FOR WHOM HE SAVED THE UNION  
THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN  
IS ENSHRINED FOREVER

I looked at him, and it was as if his unreadable eyes were burning me where I stood. I couldn't see his ghost, if there was one left of him, but I pondered over what he might have said if I _could_ see him. How would he respond to the state of this country? What would he say?

No one would ever know.

We gave his memorial a bit more time to explore the exterior parts of the temple before moving on to the next attraction. The Korean War Memorial, then the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, the Japanese Lantern, and then the World War II memorial. The pool fountains, as displayed in the photograph of the brochure no longer worked and the water inside was old and green and smelled bad. The stone was at least mostly intact.

It was walking around this attraction that I suddenlyhad an idea.

"We should build a memorial." I said all at once.

"We do have a memorial. It's on the town walls."

"No, that's for the people who died during the Battle of Alexandria." I told them. "We should have a memorial for everyone. Everyone who died because of the Blight. That's what Bianca on the radio says we should do."

"That would have to be an extremely big memorial then. We can't even begin to count all the people who died because of that."

"Well we don't have to. Maybe we don't even have to make it all that big, maybe we just need to be sure it… lasts."

Michonne's arm wrapped around me in a side hug and she kissed the top of my head affectionately. "I think that's a very good idea. There should be a memorial, and it shouldn't have taken us this long to realize that."

We moved on through the grounds, stopping for a while to be appropriately impressed about the Washington Monument's size before continuing on.

The Smithsonian was right in sight but Michonne wanted to visit the Museum of African American History and Culture first, so we found a door we could bust in and looked upon the countless historic displays. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, but it still managed to be impressive. We had to be careful, though. It was dark inside and we only had our flashlights to illuminate the windowless building while we explored.

It was fascinating to be so close to history, to see the remnants of what celebrities used to wear and use when staring in a movie or television show. We moved through the building, pausing when we came to the part that centered around Slavery of early America.

For a while I couldn't really move from the first exhibit, overcome by the ugliness of it. I was shocked by the startling cruelty that people went through and dealt out. I lived in an ugly time right now, but I could still somehow be shocked by how much cruelty truly existed in a time I assumed was supposed to be better.

As impressed as I was about so much history, I was somewhat confused about it, too. I had never realized how controversial skin color was back then. Living in a world where it was mainly living verses the dead, I had never noticed things like skin color or realized there was a whole other culture or bigotry that used to exist because of it. I actually believed everything in the olden days was almost… perfect. They had food and clean water, entertainment abounds, no need to hunt or grow their food if they didn't have to. They could do whatever they wanted pretty much.

But here I learned that everything was not as perfect as books and movies had taught me.

I mean, I knew about the KKK and I knew it was a hate group that targeted non-Christians like Pagans, Jews, and Wiccans, but I hadn't realized their main targets had centered almost entirely around African descendants. It didn't have anything to do with what they believed but simply for the shade of their skin. They could have been the most Christian individuals in the world and they'd still be inferior because of their color.

It was horrible.

I stood still near an antique illustration of a man being whipped for an error his eight-year old daughter had done. The image reminded me of when Dad had been shot after I smashed that bat to splinters right in front of Negan. That's where Dad was again, it seemed like. Any time I screwed up around Negan, he made sure to take it out on Dad and I hadn't realized how horrible that was until I was literally coming face to face with it in a drawing. I grew queasy and the similarity and a horrible realization over-powered me just then.

Were we… slaves?

I stepped away from the display, moving over to where Michonne was examining a case with a pair of irons. She must have seen my expression and put a hand on my shoulder to steady me.

"Something wrong, sweetie?"

"I just feel bad." I admitted. "I didn't know there was so much controversy back then, all just because of skin color. It's awful."

She looked over at the display, a shadow crossing her face at the sight of it. "It _is_ awful."

"It's weird," I began. "But I have this picture in my mind of what it might have all been like, but I didn't realize it wasn't… what I thought it was after all."

"What did you think it was like?"

"I don't know." My shoulders shrugged. "I just thought life was better for everyone. Everyone just sort of lived-it-up. You could get things easier. There was plenty to go around. Things were just better and there weren't so many problems. I just thought everyone got along better and you didn't have to kill anyone back then."

We turned from the exhibits and she steered me through the dark halls. "In most ways it was better, but we still had problems. Nothing is ever perfect and if it is, it's too good to be true, most of the time."

there was still something bothering me, though. "Michonne, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, honey."

"Are we… are we slaves?"

I felt her stiffen at the word and the air became very tense. She took her time to answer, time I felt was not reassuring. "I wish I could say different, but then I'd be lying to you. I think in some degree, we are."

"I want to fight back." I said to her. "I want to be free and I want to kill Negan and all the Saviors. We've got more guns now, we could do it."

"We don't have the numbers." Michonne argued. "The Kingdom won't fight with us, and Hilltop's suffered enough. There's not enough of us versus them. We would all die."

"…Maybe that's better."

"Don't say that!" She said firmly, putting her hands on my shoulders and making me look her right in the eye. "Never say that. It is never better being dead. Everything is over after that. There's nothing left of you. And what's worse is that it wouldn't be us to die. They'd make sure of that. They'd line everyone we care about up, everyone who couldn't fight and make them suffer one-by-one till there was nothing left of them. Could you live with that?"

Faces came to me with those words. Mrs. Byron, Dad, Mari, Tanti, Luis… anyone and everyone I looked after lined up side by side while Negan went down the line, deciding who was going to die for our pathetic attempt at rebellion.

Her eyes drilled into me for an answer. "…No. I couldn't."

"Your father has told you this before. We don't have the numbers, we don't have the man power, and the guns we have now, they're nothing compared to what the Saviors have. Our rebellion would be over before it started. Maybe we manage to kill Negan, but there are a dozen others to take his place were that to happen. And from the Saviors I've met so far, they may be just as worse. We know what we have now, but getting rid of this problem may just make a bigger one."

Her logic made a horrible sort of sense. There were too many variables to take into account, too much to risk and too little to gain in the end.

I looked away from her, tears burning my eyes. If there weren't Saviors and there weren't Negan…

"He's holding us back." I muttered in quiet bitterness. "They're all holding us back. We could be so much more…"

"I know, sweetheart."

We walked more around the museum, flashing our lights over the numerous exhibits till we turned a corner and found several skeletons huddled together in a corner. It didn't look like they had any head trauma but they were so decomposed, it didn't look like they weren't getting up to walk around anyways. Perhaps they starved to death, then.

This seemed to unease Michonne and she turned us both. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

We found the exit and left.

Finally, we reached the Smithsonian, the one place I had wanted to see from the beginning. We were about to go into the American History Museum but I convinced Carl and Michonne to let us see the Natural History Museum first. It had stuff from around the world instead of restricted to one singular country and I was eager to see what else lied beyond our world.

The entrance hall was enormous! I bet we could have fit the whole town in that one room. It was also illuminated with natural light, pouring in from the massive windows and allowing us to save the batteries from our flashlights.

Upon entering, we were greeted by an elephant frozen in time with its trunk lifted high in an eternal trumpet. It looked so lifelike that I almost expected it to walk right off of the platform it stood on. But I was reminded quickly of its true artificial state thanks to the dust covering it from head to foot and the right tusk that had crumbled away on it, revealing the yellowing plaster it was structured from. Around its dais was a table lined with pamphlets and brochures detailing the magnificence of these animals. Entitling the table were the words,

 **Elephants in Danger: Your Choices Make the Difference**

My head cocked at this. It had been eleven years since the words had been inscribed. With the eradication of so many people (who both threatened and preserved these animals) were they still endangered? I lifted a pamphlet, blowing away the top layer of dust and opening it to read the outdated information.

"Do you think they're still endangered?" I asked Michonne curiously. "After all this time?"

"I don't know." She answered, gazing up at the massive animal. "For all we know there could be more elephants than there are people left."

"Maybe that's better. It says here that (other than the babies) adult elephants don't have natural predators. That's gotta be pretty nice."

We steered away from the display but grabbed a few leaflets and maps for the building, wondering through it as we had done for the first museum.

The dinosaur exhibits were the first on our list and we were pleased to see that nearly every display was still intact if only covered in dust like everything else. It was dimmer in this part of the building though with fewer windows. Still, we managed to see them well enough, even without florescent light.

It was more fascinating than I had predicted.

There were some dinosaur books in our library and I'd watched Jurassic Park and its sequels before, but this was better—way better. The only downside was that they weren't as big as I had expected. Still big enough to eat a man in one bite, definitely, but not as big as those movies had beefed them up. Aside from that, it was the first I realized that all the famous dinosaurs apparently hadn't coexisted on the planet at the same time, as I assumed. The stegosaurs went extinct about eighty million years before the first t-rex started walking around. That time was greater than the time separating the t-rex and me!

Even Michonne and Carl were enjoying themselves. We moved from the dinosaur exhibit to the FossilLab, to the Ice Age, through the African Voices exhibit and all through the first floor.

When we reached the Ocean Hall we met with the jaws of the Megalodon and I couldn't sustain my amazement while I stood right in front of it, comparing my size to the diameter of its own bite.

"Look at this thing!" I told the other two, attempting to puff myself up to my biggest height. "I fit into this thing's mouth! It wouldn't even have to chew! What kind of steroids were these animals on back then?"

Both Carl and Michonne laughed by those words.

"Fresh air and some enriching volcanic soil?" Carl suggested.

We wondered more around till we made it up to the second floor. I was disappointed to see the Butterfly Pavilion as well as the Live Insect Zoo completely derelict. The exotic plants that used to grow abounds were withered and dead along with the insects that called it home. There was a musty smell around this part, making us more inclined to get out of that area as fast as we could. The next part was the Bones and Mummies and it seemed that the current neglect that shrouded over the rest of the building seemed to suit this area rather well.

After that we followed a path to the Korea Gallery and we all paused at a glass case containing a traditional wedding hanbok.

"Wasn't Glenn from Korea?"

Carl and Michonne shifted with those words. It hurt them any time they remembered our friend because they couldn't stop from thinking to the night he died.

"His parents were from South Korea, but he was born in America." Michonne answered quietly.

"He was still Korean. It was still a part of him, and it's a part of Hershel, too." They remained quiet. "I think I'd like to bring him back something, something from here—so he can remember his heritage and all, you know?"

"What were you thinking of?"

"How 'bout that little tapestry?"

"It might be a bit hard to get at it from behind the—,"

CRASH!

Michonne was cut off when Carl slammed the butt of his gun into the glass, shattering the display to reach in and take the old cloth from the display.

"Carl!" Michonne snapped.

"What? No one's looking at these displays any time soon and no one cares either way."

She wasn't happy about what he'd done but couldn't find a good enough reason to reprimand him about it. After all, we'd been looting and scavenging for years and years. What was so different about a museum display?

He gave me the tapestry and I took great care to fold it neatly and tuck it into my knapsack. It felt old and delicate and I sure hoped it wouldn't fall apart inside there.

We continued on, stopping at the Gem and Minerals Store with my insistence and I stocked up on some crystals I'd be able to use in some spells and rituals I'd been dying to try out but been unable to because of the lack of materials. The short stop initiated an argument with Carl about filling my bag up with rocks and carried on all through the Geology exhibit, we quieted though when we reached the Gems and Minerals displays.

Now this was what I was talking about!

In this area, we had moved into a darkened part of the museum so we had to resort once more to our flashlights.

I had never seen such beautiful stones in my whole life. Gauzy strings of jewel encrusted necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, pins, buckles, and crowns lined every display, glistening like stars even through all the dust. I was entranced by the Dom Pedro, an enormous pillar of aquamarine, standing at about fourteen inches and weighing 10,363 carats, the largest in the world as it happened to be. Boy, the spells I could perform with that thing…

Even the raw uncut gems were incredible to behold, but the crown jewel of the museum out of all the exhibits was yet to be seen and happened to be the very last thing on our tour.

The Hope Diamond had its very own exhibit hall, fixed with a clear three by three square foot glass display case and a gazebo-like entrance that seemed more like the shrine for an idol.

Even when we had first entered the building we came face to face with posters and fallen banners advertising the brand-new modernized look for the diamond. It was here that we found the very first body we had come across through the whole abandoned building.

The body slumped against the case right as we were coming around the corner. By the looks of it, the body was a woman holding a gun in one hand with a gaping hole in the side of her head, so it didn't take a genius to guess how she met her end. I took the gun from her skeletal hands and stuffed it in my belt.

We did our best to step around it while we took in the display of the large diamond. Spotlight or no spotlight to shine down on this thing it was still incredibly impressive. Just then it gave me an odd sort of idea.

"You know… the Hope Diamond is pretty impressive." I responded to Michonne and Carl. "And Negan told me to get him something really impressive… and legend has it that the Hope Diamond is actually cursed, or at least all its owners have met their ends pretty horrendously… and if the dates aren't too off the first reports for the outbreak started only a few days after the "new modernized look" for the diamond was released."

Michonne and Carl's heads snapped towards me.

"Are you saying you want to give Negan a cursed 45.52 carat diamond?"

I shrugged, feigning innocence. "Well… he is an attention hog, and he wants something incredible, and I still have to get something that's going to impress him, and since I would like to reframe from giving him anything he can potentially use against us, I figured it would be enough to satisfy him. If he manages to meet an unfortunate end along with most of the Saviors—well, I'd say that's a nice bonus."

"Won't it look a little suspicious if you give him something that's so obviously from the Smithsonian?"

"For all he'll know I found it in a broken-down truck after its driver abandoned it years ago."

"You really think he'll believe that?"

" _I'd_ believe it." I shrugged again. "We're always finding weird stuff. You found that magazine of naked women the other day and who would want something like that?"

Michonne glared at Carl who shrunk with my statement.

"Tell me you didn't keep it."

" _Mom_ , I didn't keep it! I'm not a pervert!"

I took the butt of the gun from the body and smashed it into the glass the same way Carl did with the tapestry display.

"Judith!"

I reached in, but hesitated for a moment. I didn't want whatever curse was shrouded on this thing to latch onto me. Maybe if I kept from touching it with my bare skin...

I used a handkerchief to pick it up and wrap it, taking extra care not to let even the diamond encrusted chain touch me before tucking it in my bag next to the tapestry. Michonne wasn't pleased with what I had done, but thankfully didn't say anything about it as we turned away.

With that, we left the museum. There were other attractions we wanted to see, like the American History Museum, the Capitol, the Space and Aircraft museum, and many others but we would be out of light soon and we wanted to get a good start back to Hilltop before it got dark. Plus, we really needed to get back to the horses. Carl was worried about them and for good reason. if they got too loud they may start attracting things.

So, we saved those other attractions for another day when we would have the rest of our family with us to enjoy it more.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So two chapters today. Nothing very exiting however. Just a little day trip into an overrun zombie Washington DC. The Hope Diamond does seem a little conspicuous, but Judith is a good liar so it shouldn't be a problem when Negan asks where she got it, I think...**


	35. Father Knows Best

**Chapter 35  
Father Knows Best**

"You know, if I was ever the captain of a pirate armada I'd name all my ships after prehistoric oceanic creatures, and my main ship would be called the Megalodon."

"Oh, so you're going to be a pirate when you grow up?" Carl smirked at my announcement.

"No, but maybe I'd like to travel around a little. You know if all that stuff about the Hope Diamond is true, we may all be victims of an ancient curse."

"I don't think that's what's going on, Judith." My brother scoffed, but his skepticism didn't discourage me.

"Think about it," I tried to explain, working myself into more and more excitement. "The Hope Diamond is given a completely new look and a few days after its release, the dead started rising. The stone is infamous for passing from one owner to the next who all met their ends pretty gruesomely and it all began when somebody stole it from the statue of a Burma idol with supernatural powers until a traitorous monk stole it! What if all this is just an elaborate curse we're all under and it'll take the dedication of a brave traveler to restore the jewel to its original idol to break the curse for now and always so that mankind may heal at last!"

Michonne and Carl looked at me with identical expressions of somewhat patronizing amusement. "And are you that traveler?"

"I could be!" My eyes sparkled at the idea. "What an adventure that would be…"

Daydreams about such a quest lit through my mind the whole way back to the Hilltop. I imagined the journey as something out of Lord of the Rings like returning the ring to be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. The thought of restoring an ancient jewel definitely had a legendary quest ring to it. What a story that would be to tell around the campfire.

On a journey like that there was no telling what you could meet. There could be bandits, monsters, cannibals, pirates, storms, wild beasts… _boy,_ that sounded like a trip!

It was close to sunset when we finally got back to Hilltop. The supplies we presented were well received and Michonne and Carl began trading among the towns folk as they had discussed on the road. It was stranger for me to trade, I normally just left people things on their doorsteps, but on our way here Michonne had brought up the subject of bartering.

"You worked hard for this stuff, Judith. You should be paid for your work, _and_ you risked your life for it."

I frowned by that. "You know I didn't. Not really…"

"Well we need people to believe you did. If they don't, it'll look suspicious and it'll arise too many questions."

"They've already started asking questions." Carl interjected. "David was supposed to be dead, but he isn't. His partner saw him get bitten and his wife knows about it, too. They don't know how he was spared, but I'm sure they'll find out soon enough and in no time, all of Hilltop will know and it'll spread like wildfire to everyone alive for miles."

Those words scared me. They'd been scaring me for years. I'd often imagined what would happen if people found out about my secret power and my imaginings almost always ended with me being dragged away to the Sanctuary, a fate that was more frightening than dying by any walker bite. In fact, it always started and ended with that image. There was almost never any room for other scenarios.

I didn't know what went on in their land, no one really did for sure, but if the end results produced people like those monsters I did not want to discover those activities. We could only imagine, and those possibilities eased no one.

I was riding with Carl when he said those words and had unconsciously tightened my arms around him, frightened of the thoughts that spawned from them.

I could feel him turn to look back at me but I didn't return his gaze, fixing my eyes on the ground as it moved below our horse. Maybe he realized he had unnerved me and could feel my trepidation pulsing from my frantic heart, and so moved to offer reassurance.

"I'm pretty sure no one would tell the Saviors, though. No one we know is that stupid or selfish."

"Someone might be…" I answered with unease. "If we haven't told _everyone_ yet, then we can't trust everyone and that's dangerous."

"Well they wouldn't know the whole story, and what good is that, really? And even if they did, what proof do they have? It's our word over theirs and as far as anyone knows the only thing you've got is the cure; no one of concern knows it's full potential."

"Maybe they'll get some idea after we come back with all this. I mean how are we going to explain all these goods? Everything's supposed to be picked clean for miles."

"We got lucky when we came across an abandoned bunker." Michonne stated in a tone that was as if it were actually true. "They had all kinds of stuff. That's how we found it all. We picked it clean and that's all anyone needs to know."

"Crap, then how am I supposed to hand out the souvenirs I got for the Waifs and Dad?"

"I don't think you need to worry too much about them. They won't reveal you, and didn't you say you had a story already thought-out if questioned? I mean you can't exactly hand over that diamond without explaining where you got it."

"That's just the diamond." I told them. "But yeah, I guess I see your point. Dad and the kids are going to be the last people to spill the beans, won't they."

"You think he'll be disappointed?" Carl answered. "You know, that we went to Washington without him and sort of went sight-seeing and saw a lot of cool things… I mean they _were_ cool, for the most part."

"Tell me about it. Those brochures should have prepared us for that." I said humorously. It felt very wrong making light of the tragedy that befell the city side by side with the rest of the world in the first place but we all still laughed, so I guess we'll be going to hell together.

"We only saw a few things." Carl responded. "I mean there's still plenty left to see for another day. We didn't see the Capitol Building or the White House."

"Or the Space and Aircraft museum." Michonne added.

"Or the American History Museum." I stated.

"Or the Library of Congress."

"Oh, it's amazing! Wait till you see it! The entrance lobby is enormous." The words were out of me before I could think better of them.

Both Michonne and Carl's gazes swerved over to look at me in shock. "What? How do you know what it's like?"

My neck began to sweat nervously as a memory from years ago involving my friend John rose up and I struggled for an explanation I couldn't give them. "Uh… Oh look! There's the Hilltop! HI ROSITA!"

I slipped from the horse before another word could be said and rushed up as the woman and a few others sprinted towards us.

"Where the hell have you guys been?" She rounded on us. "You take off and all you leave is a note?"

"Sorry." Michonne explained lamely, lowering from her own horse. "I had a hunch about where we might find some supplies. I wanted to follow up on it."

"So, you don't take more of us with you?" The woman looked utterly outraged. "What the hell?"

"Hey, we found some really good stuff. We even scored a bigger wagon to load it all with." Carl announced pulling back the tarp to reveal the treasures underneath.

Her eyes went big and she looked at the goods, mainly the ammo, guns and weapons with a longing expression.

"How did you find all this?" She stared, touching one of the revolvers.

Michonne and Carl's gazes turned in the corners of their eyes and towards me while I pretended not to feel them.

"I'm going to find Dad." I announced, sprinting up the hill before they could call me back.

I passed a few people who greeted me as I rushed by, but I had no time to return any of their acknowledgments while I made my way towards the infirmary.

Doctor Carson was coming out just as I reached the door.

"Is he alright? Is he doing okay?"

The man didn't need to ask who I meant. "He's doing fine, Judith. He's still a bit sore from the surgery but he should be ready to go home today."

I breathed easy and turned into the house. "I'm seeing him." I didn't need his permission or verification. It had been three days and I would see my father whether or not anyone agreed.

"Dad!" I exclaimed, rushing into his room. "I'm here. We're back!"

He was sitting up in a chair, leaning over a desk as he wrote something down. At my announcement he turned, looking stunned and then relieved to see me, as if he'd been rolling through heavy emotions of anxiety since the moment he discovered we were all gone. I rushed to embrace him, but reminded quickly that he was still recovering when my arms held him too tightly around the abdomen. He pushed the pain away though, determined that he would savor our reunion without interruption, bodily discomforts be damned.

"Oh, thank god! I was just about to get a horse and go after all of you! Where have you been?"

"It's fine." I told him. "We're all fine. I'm so happy you're okay! We found so many things and stuff. I even got you something."

I dug in my pocket and fished out a metal replica of the Lincoln Memorial, small enough to fit right into his palm and engraved with the words we saw at the temple. "I snagged a few postcards, too. I thought it'd been kinda cool to start a collection. I'm gunna travel the world, Dad. I'm going to go everywhere."

There were mixed emotions rolling around on his face and I could tell he wanted very much to blow up over the decision we had all made to go into the danger zone behind his back, despite the objections. But the happiness on my face was so sincere I didn't expect he had the heart to, at least not until Michonne stepped into the room.

His eyes were very angry when they landed on her and I detected betrayal behind it.

"Judith, give us a minute."

I knew what he was probably intending to talk about and resolved to spare Michonne the lecture we all felt coming.

"Come on, Dad. It wasn't dangerous, and you should see all the stuff we found. It was awesome! You have to come along next time. You'd love it."

His expression wavered slightly but he looked driven, and when he looked like that, there was no force that would change his mind.

"Judith, wait outside. We need a minute alone." I didn't want to move but a look from Michonne told me it would be fine.

"Would you actually go find Jesus." Michonne suggested.

"Not you, too. I thought you respected my beliefs by now!"

"Judith!" This time both of them pointed to the door, issuing me out. Apparently, my joke didn't land with them.

The door slammed behind me but I didn't want to really find Hilltop's leader. What I wanted to do was press my ear against the wood to listen in on what they were saying. So, I did just that.

I could hear Dad speaking in a strained voice. "You went behind my back—and while I was unconscious. What were you thinking?"

"We can't protect her forever, Rick." Michonne fired back. "She needs to learn these things as Carl learned these things."

"I never wanted Carl to learn these things in the first place. He shouldn't have had to."

"If he hadn't he wouldn't have lived this long and you know it."

"He wasn't given a choice. Judith was."

"So, we should prioritize one over the other?"

"Of course not! How dare you!"

"How dare I?" Michonne sounded utterly insulted, and I could picture the expression of offense on her face as she placed a hand on her chest at the mere suggestion. "Rick, she isn't that impressionable little girl anymore. She's not ignorant or helpless. She needs to know how to make it on her own in this world. And she needs to understand her new position in all this. Despite what you say, she _is_ special and now she's more valuable than ever before."

Dad didn't respond to that, but I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning, furiously trying to fathom an argument that would counter what she was leading up to, but he said nothing.

"Caging or shielding her doesn't help her. The only way we'll ever truly help is by preparing her as we have done for Carl, and the best time to do that is right now. We can't wait for when she's older, it's just not practical, not to mention dangerous for her."

Dad's voice was strained but it sounded as if he was beginning to cave. He couldn't fight her logic. "She's not ready."

"She _is_ ready. The only one who isn't ready here, is you."

Their voices turned to hushed tones and it was hard to guess what they were saying as they moved about the room. I jumped when a door slammed somewhere behind me, catching sight of someone entering the hallway from one of the mansion's many other rooms. I focused on the sight of an old man and realized quickly it was Gregory, the dishonored ex-leader of Hilltop.

He was removed from any position of authority not long after her relocation to Hilltop became permanent and was replaced by Jesus. No one cared for the man all that much, and I had heard Maggie refer on how spineless he was on a number of occasions.

His head turned and met my gaze in a way that set me on edge.

It seemed the general importance of Michonne and Dad's discussion was over, so I guess it was prudent to get going.

Outside the setting sun was skimming over the edges of the trees. The evening breeze billowed through my sidetail and I took a deep breath, making my way back towards the wagon. It was a real relief to find out that Michonne was talking to Dad about all this. As it had been proven before, I guess I wasn't that great at persuasion. Maybe I'd get better.

"Judith."

I turned and saw Dr. Carson coming towards me.

"Dr. Carson, hello."

"Hello. How are you today?"

"I'm alright. All things considering, I guess."

"I wanted to discuss something with you."

Those words sounded odd to me. People from other communities didn't normally discuss things with _me_. It was usually Dad, Michonne or Carl they wanted to speak with. It was only Negan that ever required my attention.

"What about?" I asked, feeling strange.

"I'd like to ask if you would be comfortable giving a donation today? I mean, I understand you donated last week and you were injured a few days ago, but if it would be at all possible…"

"Was anyone bitten?"

"No. At least no one in town at the moment. But if there was an accident, it's important to be prepared."

He didn't have to finish. "Well of course, I will."

"Thank you, Judith."

I followed him back to his office and lied out on the cot in there while he prepped everything. My eyes kept switching back from him to the machine while my blood filtered inside. It was silent until he found a topic of conversation.

"So… how was Washington?"

I was startled that he knew where we'd been, but after a moment to consider I guess he would be able to figure it out rather quickly.

"It was cool. We saw the monuments."

"Really? Was it very crowded?"

"There were walkers everywhere if that's what you're talking about."

"That's unfortunate."

"You mean _fortunate_!" I contradicted. "There were a whole lot of stuff we were able to find thanks to that. The city's mostly untouched. It's practically a treasure trove. We should make another trip into it, real soon. And with it so infested it's less likely to be scavenged by other people. I should feel bad about that, but I don't really."

"I suppose that can be an advantage now."

"A big advantage! This is so exciting! I can't wait to get started with bigger parties."

The doctor looked concerned. "You think that's wise?"

"Well… only for people trustworthy. I was really afraid of coming forward, but now that I see all the good I could do I don't think I can get started fast enough."

Carson held a fond sort of expression as he watched the plasma separate. "I think you're going to end up doing a lot of good, Judith Grimes."

"I hope so." I lied back and closed my eyes relaxing as the chilling saline drained back into my arm with the red cells.

"Would you like something to eat." Doctor Carson asked.

"I don't think I'll have time. Michonne and Dad asked me to "find Jesus" before you called me over. It seems my heathen ways have finally gotten the attention of my Christian parentals." My air-quotes made him snigger but it was my last comment, spoken in a thick southern accent that really made his head bend back in amusement.

"Yeah, that's why they asked you to find him." He laughed. "I don't think they'd object if you had some food. In fact, I'm pretty sure they'd insist. You have to keep up your strength, after all."

"Well Michonne also wanted to show me how to barter."

Carson looked sincerely surprised by the news. "You don't know how to barter?"

"Well… not skillfully. I usually just end up… giving the stuff away."

He looked to the side, thoughtfully. "Yeah, you should learn how to do that properly."

"I guess it'd be useful to know."

"It's important because people could start taking advantage of you that way. They may start expecting things from you for free."

The announcement made me huff indignantly. "I don't let anyone take advantage of me."

"I certainly believe that, but haggling is still incredibly relevant to learn."

I didn't know how to respond to that, plus I was getting dizzy so I leaned back and closed my eyes against the drain in my arm. Doctor Carson must have seen my expression and stood up to go to the small fridge in his office.

"Let's get you some food. I know you said you weren't hungry but you still need something if you're donating. Do you like pudding?"

"I actually don't care too much for sweets, or at least _sweet_ -sweets."

"Alright. You like vegetables?"

"I _love_ my vegetables."

"Great." He pulled out a bag of peeled carrots, cucumber slices, and celery sticks along with a container of homemade dressing. I reached in and took a carrot while he grabbed a piece of celery. "Cheers." He said knocking his to mine like a drink before dipping it in dressing.

I munched delightfully on the vegetable, savoring the tangy vinegar based sauce. It seemed just the thing to wet my apatite and without being asked if I wanted more, I reached into the bag and helped myself. It only took about five minutes for me to eat my way to the bottom of it and even after finishing the whole bag I was still hungry. I knew better than to ask for more, though. Typical rule of thumb among communities, if it was all he gave me, that generally meant that's all there was.

"I think that's enough for today." Dr. Carson announced when I'd finished the bag. He switched the machine off and disconnected the needle when the remainder of the red cells had finished flowing back into me. "Take a moment before you get up, alright."

I had planned to, flexing my arm against the new bandage he wrapped it in and feeling dizzier and dizzier the longer I sat there. The door opened at that moment though, to reveal Dad and Jesus. He looked to have been worried for a moment as if he'd been looking for me.

"Oh, there you are. I thought you went to go find Jesus for us."

"I'm pretty sure you can't ask someone to find Jesus for you, Dad. If you want to accept him into your own life, that's your choice. I've got my own spiritual journeys to deal with."

Both Jesus and Dr. Carson smiled by the joke. Dad looked a little fed up, though.

"Okay, enough with that joke."

"Hey, if I have to sit through your dad jokes when we go hunting, you can stand my Jesus jokes a few times when we're here."

" _Mm, there it is,_ " Carl muttered under his breath as he suddenly entered behind the two other men.

"Plus, what am I supposed to do when you walk right into them?" I added.

"Okay, okay. Touché."

Their tones turned serious just then and I sensed an important discussion about to be had. As if sensing it too, Carl closed the door, leaning against the window to watch for anyone approaching.

I looked from one man to another, wondering and slightly concerned about what was coming next. Perhaps sensing what the discussion would be about I distracted them with a question.

"Will we be making another trip out soon?"

"We'll worry about that later." Dad said. "We wanted to discuss something with you."

"Is it about more donations? Because I'm okay with that, too."

"You would be okay with that?" Dad repeated back. The answer didn't seem to surprise him but he did look concerned.

"Yes. Of course, I would." I said earnestly.

The men exchanged glances between them, before Jesus continued. "Judith, we want you to know that this is important. You have two very unique abilities that are invaluable; that makes _you_ invaluable."

"I know." I stated. "And I'm ready to do whatever you need me to do."

Jesus seemed to carry the majority of the conversation while he faced me. "Well… the thing is. You've been risking your life pretty recklessly as of late. You were kidnapped only a few days ago, after all. You suffered a concussion within that period and a few days prior to that you were mauled by a bear. In just a few weeks you've been severely injured and abducted. We need you to tell us now if your abduction was just random or if you were targeted."

My voice caught in my throat and heart skipped a beat. Lying didn't seem like a wise choice, and there was a large likelihood that they would see through that. What was the point in keeping it a secret anyways? They already knew about it, so why hide?

"I… I _was_ targeted." I finally told them. "I think it was the Wolves, but I'm not sure if it was them or not. It could have been someone else."

"So, how many other groups do you think know about you?"

I rubbed my neck, uncertain about that myself. There seemed to be spies everywhere, almost. "Well, the group that kidnapped me… I'm pretty sure they're all dead. Negan saw to that. He was pretty pissed off."

"Do you think the Saviors know about it?"

"I don't think so." I confirmed, shaking my head. "He wouldn't have brought me back otherwise, but he would make sure you knew he had me. And he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to gloat about it."

"That is definitely true." Dad deadpanned.

"Could he ever figure it out?" Dr. Carson asked.

Carl's snort from the window made us all turn. "Probably someday. He does with everything else we try to keep from him." Everyone held similar looks of exasperation and his response was to shrug defensively. "What? It's true."

Dad seemed less than impressed with my brother's choice of words. "Despite Carl's apathetic response, he does have a point."

"Have you been careless lately?" Jesus asked in concern.

Oh boy, that was a loaded question. Many would probably consider my actions in the past to be rather careless.

"Um…"

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose "Never mind."

A spike of fear shot through me and my mouth went dry at the terrifying possibility. "Well… what can we do?"

"We'll wait a few days," Dad announced. "We'll let things quiet down, when Negan comes tomorrow you're going to behave and not test him and let things drift back into their usual routine. After that, we'll make more plans and see where we'll go from there."

"But we will be able to make more trips into the cities now, right?" I asked hopefully, eager for an opportunity to see all the things I didn't get to see. Only this time, Dad would be with us, so we'd be able to enjoy it all as a complete family this time.

"That brings us to another subject." Dr. Carson began. "Since your blood carries antibodies that can fight the harmful pathogens from walker bites, but you're also able to divert entire herds without being harmed in anyway, it leads us to a very difficult decision. We need to prioritize your value, Judith. Taking you out on those trips is an enormous risk. Should another rogue group like the Wolves discover the sort of things you can do, it puts you in danger of being kidnaped again."

"But I'm fine!" I scrambled. "I'm totally fine… or at least _mostly_ fine."

"Yes, but then next time…"

"…You might not be fine." Dad finished gently. "Or worse… someone else might not be fine."

I could understand what they were saying, but that didn't mean it made me feel better. I could feel the burn of tears coming just then. Where they saying what I thought they were saying?

"So… does that mean I can't go outside the walls anymore?"

The thought, was horrible. It was such a large part of me. Being in the forest was so, so important. Being on the island with Vanessa, learning about spells and gardening and nature and hunting… would I have to give all that up… to be the cure?

Dad looked sorrier than any of them and for a moment it seemed like he could actually feel how hard this was for me.

"I'm so sorry, Judith, but it's really for the best."

"But what about all that stuff you were talking about with Michonne about not caging me? Was that all just bullshit?"

He looked startled to hear I had overheard that part of the conversation, but he didn't reprimand me for it. "We've talked about this before, Judith. Not at least without someone, and not for a while after all this."

"So, I'm just grounded again?" I was getting angry now. "I thought this was supposed to be a good thing." I had felt so relieved after hearing Michonne and Dad's talk because I really believed she would be able to get through to him.

"It's not like that." Dad tried to explain. "You're not a prisoner and you're not grounded. You wanted to know how you could help; this is how you help. We need you prepared to give donations if an emergency comes up."

"But I can do _more_ than just that. I _want_ to do more than just that."

"Right now," Jesus began gently, "That's all we need from you."

I looked from one adult to the next, wondering how this had happened. It felt like I had been ganged up on. It was all of them verses just me. I couldn't argue with four adults like them on my own. They were the leaders of our communities, and according to everyone… they knew best after all.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I know it's been forever since I last updated. This chapter took forever for me to figure out! Don't you just love jumping around in a story and writing out you're favorite parts of a book instead of writing them in chronological order like any other normal person? What? You don't? Gasp! Is that why it takes me so long to update a story? Naw! Couldn't be.**

 **I'd like to give a big shout out to Deadlyflames! Thank you for all your beautiful reviews. You've no idea how much they made my day. Seriously, if you guys want new chapters out of me, the best form of motivation is reviewing. I love, love, love reading them!**


	36. Lies within Truth

**Chapter 36  
Lies within Truth**

We traveled all through the night, to be sure we made it back to Alexandria before the next morning, which was the deadline for when the Saviors returned. We were all exhausted when we finally made it home at around five in the morning and I barely registered anything other than Dad telling me and Carl to head off to bed while they distributed what we had gotten from the city.

I was asleep before my head even touched the pillow of my hammock. About a minute later I was being shaken awake by Dad yet again. I growled, wanting to slap his hand away but he only jarred me more insistently.

"He's here."

I rolled over and saw him looking just as tired as I was. There was no need to ask who "he" was.

Without another exchange I nodded and he left me to get ready. My body practically dropped out of my hammock and I dazedly focused on pulling my clothes on while there on the floor. Slapping myself repeatedly roused me somewhat from the zone-like trance I was trapped in, but not by much.

"Come on." I muttered. "Wake up! You just have to be awake for this one moment of crap from him then you can go back to bed."

My body dragged down the stairs but I had to backtrack when I forgot to grab his offering. He was waiting in the living room, lounging on the couch and looking like a little kid on his birthday, excited for his present.

"Good morning, Judy Bloom." He said when I walked in, yawning and dragging my feet. "Rough night?"

"Here." I tossed him the balled-up handkerchief, ignoring his question.

He wasn't impressed with my lack of response to his own greeting and set the parcel aside as he looked at me with a deeply irritated expression. "Excuse me, Judy. I just said hello to you? Is that anyway to greet someone in the morning?"

I was too tired to fight him, so I just shrugged off the words to scratch at my un-brushed head in disinterest while yawning out a frank, "Morning."

He didn't seem satisfied with that and took the opportunity to look me up and down in disapproval. "Your hair is all over the place and your shirt is on backwards _and_ inside-out."

I looked down, pulling out the collar of my shirt to find the exposed seams and the tag sticking out right in my face.

Negan didn't seem done with that though. "Is this how you greet your guests? By looking like you just rolled out of bed?"

I reframed from announcing that I really did just roll out of bed and that he wasn't a guest so much as an intruder and since this was _my_ house if I wanted to wear my shirt on backwards and inside-out at the same time, it was within my rights to do so.

"Geeze," He continued, "The least you could do is stand up straight."

That last comment was what woke me up enough to retort without thinking. I kept my tired expression on a moment longer while I addressed him. "Can I ask you something?"

"And what's that, darlin'?"

"Do you have scoliosis or is one of your legs longer than the other?"

His smile dropped in confusion at the question. "No… why?"

"Because if we're talking about standing up straight, then _YOU_ walk like you're failing a DUI, which knowing how professional you are is a high possibility, but you see, _I_ prefer not to assume. So, if it's because you're physically inept in anyway I'll shut up and won't judge, because only a DICK does that."

Dwight who had accompanied as Negan's extra gun was busy drinking down some water from a canteen but promptly choked on the liquid and sprayed it out in a fountain after hearing my retort. He didn't wait for an order but tactfully left to try and clear his lungs outside.

The moment I saw the look on Negan's face I knew I shouldn't have said it, but I'd been wanting to say it for so long that I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Then I remembered what happened to Dad and how he was still recovering from his surgery. Instantly, for fear of more damage done to our people, I worked to amend my statement.

"I-I'm sorry." I muttered, shrinking where I stood. I hated the words. I wasn't really sorry, not one bit, but I didn't want anything worse to happen to my dad or one of our people, should he decide to take his anger out on someone. So, I stowed the attitude and just apologized this one time. It helped being too freaking tired to even really care. "That was dumb to say."

"You're absolutely right." He said, his face getting dark. "It was dumb. I'd have thought, after that massive ass-kicking your daddy got, that you would have learned your lesson, but it seems like I was wrong. Who should I punish for that?"

"I—I… You don't have to hurt anyone! I'm sorry! I really am sorry!" God, it sucked to say those words so freaking much!

"No, you're not! But you will be," His hands gripped the arm rest, about to stand up and do something I was sure I wasn't going to enjoy.

"Don't you want to see what I got you?" It was a distraction, one that seemed to work as he considered the wrapped parcel I had tossed to him today.

He was stunned by how small my tribute was, but he was curious so he unwrapped it all the same.

The towelette pulled back and the light caught on the three rows of baguette diamonds that came together in a stylish twist. An opening in the center cradled the enormous egg-sized, cushion-cut diamond and made the light sparkle around it. The sight of it made his eyes go large in shock.

"Holy shit girl. Is this thing real?" I didn't say anything as he held it up for examination. "Wait, I know this. No… This isn't real."

I didn't say anything, allowing him to make his own conclusions about it. He could think it was fake if he wanted to. I wasn't going to reveal anything.

"Don't tell me this is the _actual_ Hope Diamond." He said, tracing over the brilliant blue stone.

"Oh, is that what it is?" Pretending I hadn't actually known what it was seemed like the smartest strategy. So, I only continued to stare at him blankly.

His head snapped up at me, the previous threats he'd held long forgotten now. "Where the fuck would you even get something like this?"

I schooled my features, expecting this question and very prepared for how I was planning to respond. "Turns out I'm descended from a long line of Gaelic Witches and yesterday the Order of Weird Sisters found me and hailed me as the reincarnated spirit of Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld, giving me dominion over all dead and dying things. So, I just told the zombie horde to step aside so I could explore Washington with my mom and brother like any typical family vacation. And now, I'm pretty sure I'm a superhero."

Negan stared at me, looking entirely confused as if he couldn't decide if I was screwing with him or not. Then my face broke and I shrugged with a new far more plausible possibility. " _Or_ I just found it in the pocket of a wandering body that was dressed like a security guard for a museum. If I had to guess, I think he took the stone when things started going to shit, didn't get very far before being nom-nomed and has been wandering the wastes for years till he met his end with the impact of my throwing knife. And since I _always_ go through their pockets for loose change, that's how I found it. I'll let you decide which scenario is more believable."

He looked disappointed, like he actually believed the first crap story before I had figuratively burst his bubble. "Knowing you, it could be either of those."

"Well you like multiple choices. You pick which one was more likely."

"What if I like the first option." He challenged.

"Then I should let you know that Santa and I also have correspondence with one another and the reason he's been so preoccupied these past few years is because he's fighting a war with Krampus and his demon legions. So that's why it's been so hard for him to make his annual stops around the world to drop off presents and it _absolutely_ has nothing to do with rotter hordes."

Negan looked like he was getting annoyed. "You want to be a fucking smartass around me?"

"Better than being a dumbass."

"Well for someone who acts smart you're still pretty fucking dumb. Or did you really forget in the space of five minutes what I could do?"

 _Crap_! I did forget. What was with me? One second I was like a scared puppy, tucking tail around him like he could explode, the next I barked at him like he was no more threatening than a rat, sneaking around where he shouldn't be.

Maybe I had Tourettes or something. Was that a viable possibility? Could I use that for an explanation next time?

Negan's eyes narrowed at me while he kept hold of the jewel. There seemed to be something behind his gaze, something that said he no longer wanted to play games anymore. Strange for him. All he liked to do was play games—or play _people_ really.

"Where did you really get this?" He demanded, all humor somehow leaving his tone as he fixed me with a calculating expression. His face was very different from how it normally was, and there seemed to be something gravely serious in his eyes. He wanted a real answer this time and zero lip or bullshit from me.

I swallowed fearing that maybe he was starting to smarten up more than I would have liked.

"It really was a walker." I lied, looking at him with equal seriousness. "How else could I have gotten something like that?"

Negan looked at it in contemplation. "I've tried to send men into DC before for shit. It never… went well. Fucking horde is impenetrable. We've tried to divert it, but that usually ended in catastrophe as well. Can't get past those undead fuckers without getting people killed. It's not even worth it, really."

I was quiet while he spoke, waiting for this encounter to be over with already.

"I wasn't really expecting you to get something incredible." He announced matter-of-factly, turning the gem over in his hand and leaning back in the couch to face me fully once again. "Everything's been picked through for miles and miles around. I was sure we got all the good stuff long ago."

"Yeah… I know." I said bitterly. "You just wanted to set me up for failure so you could take something important from me."

"No, I wanted to see what you considered incredible."

I stared back at him in outrage. "Wait, so it didn't even matter to you what I brought?"

"Oh no, it would definitely matter to me, but it still would have been nice to see what your definition would be."

I glowered, unable to look at him, "My definition is different from yours and it wasn't _me_ who needed to be impressed; so, I wasn't thinking about that! I wasn't even sure if _this_ was going to impress _your highness_! I just didn't want you to take someone from me again! But I don't expect that to matter either way. You make these decisions long before anyone even gets that chance."

The statement seemed to sting him. "Oh, I always give people a chance."

"Pfft, no, you don't." I hissed under my breath.

"What did you say?" I could smell the fury for the contradiction. It didn't sound wise to elaborate my statement, but he pressed for it all the same. "Go on, honey, what do you mean by that?"

It was difficult to reel my words back. I wanted nothing more than to explain exactly what I meant by it. But the memories of what he'd done in the past weighed on me. This was all just a game to him, one I was never going to win. "I… I don't think I should."

"You don't get to open your mouth like that if you're just going to pussy out. Own up to what you believe in, sweetheart." It was a dangerous challenge, one that was oh so tempting.

Better judgement won out this time, though. "You know, I'd definitely say what's on my mind if it was just me that had the consequences to deal with. But it's not, so it's not worth the risk."

"What if I made you a deal. Say what's on your mind and if I don't like it I'll promise to punish just you."

That was no deal.

"Yeah and if you do that, my dad finds out, gets pissed about it, then he has to kill you, and your men get pissed and they try to kill my dad and everyone starts fighting and we all end up dead. Doesn't sound like a very smart thing to do no matter what you promise."

Negan smiled smugly, "Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought."

It grinded on my nerves each and every time he said that. "I'm not dumb, I'm just not… _well-restrained_." I tried to say.

"Well you better work harder on being _well-restrained_."

There was a moment of silence while I stood there. Waiting for his next words. I saw him glance back down at the necklace in thought, turning it over as the light danced over the glimmering cuts.

"So… is it enough?" I asked curiously, because I had to know. I had to know if it would be sufficient to keep the Waifs out of his clutches. I had forgotten about the real reason I needed to get him something impressive at first, but now with him here, it came back to me at full force, reminding me exactly what I'd lose if the gem didn't do what I needed it to do. "Does it impress you?"

He looked towards me and took he sweet time to answer.

"Well the thing is, it's such a small thing." He said, and I felt my heart hammer loud and fearful with those words.

 _Please don't…_

"Don't get me wrong, it's definitely unexpected." He continued. "In a different time, this would have been worth millions. Now a days… well, jewels aren't worth a whole lot. It's stuff that can be used that holds the real value."

I knew he had already come to a decision about it, even before I showed him what I had, this was just to mess with me. Negan loved playing with his food after all.

"It… it has to be worth something." My fists clenched tight. "It's so much different then what I usually get you? You were so excited about it when you first got it! Don't tell me it's not cool because you sure acted like it was!"

"Yeah, I was surprised, but that's worn off a bit."

My mouth thinned into a tight line across my face. A horrible image of Luis, Tanti and Mari being escorted into one of their trucks filled my vision. I could see the frightened confusion in Tanti's eyes. They ways she gripped tightly to her sister's hand. Luis while he cried out, reaching his hand out to Aaron or Eric while the tears ran down his face. And then I saw Mari. Everything she had to go through before arriving here; the monsters she had been overcoming were back in an instant, and she was all but frozen in terror. I couldn't put them through that hell again. I just couldn't!

"What are you saying?" I demanded in a strained voice. "That you're going to take them anyways? You don't even want them. They don't mean anything to you."

"No, they don't," he said without hesitation. "But I know they mean a whole lot to you, now. In fact, they're worth a million-dollar gemstone to you."

His words took me aback. What did he mean by that?

"I would have done the same for any one of the people here." But I wasn't entirely sure if it was true.

Would the gift have been different if Negan had threatened someone else? Would I have pushed so hard for something incredible if it was someone like Lizzie or Eugene being threatened? A quiet, ugly part of me whispered that I wouldn't have even cared.

The realization stunned me speechless. _Oh my god_ , I was a monster.

Negan looked almost impressed. "Oh really? Any one of them?"

"Yes! It's this thing I do where actually I value human life."

But that was a lie and I hated that it was a lie. I didn't value the lives of my rivals over the lives of my family. If the choice came up to save one or the other, I was always, _always_ going to choose the lives of those that mattered more to me. Did that make me a horrible person?

The answer was probably yes.

"Human life, really?" His brow went up and I bit back a growl as his smug smile grew wider, "Let me give you a bit of advice then. You shouldn't be so generous with your heart. The more people you care about, the weaker you are."

"So, you're basically saying you don't care about your own people? That doesn't surprise me."

"You're twisting what I said."

" _Oh_ , so the foot's on the other shoe for once— _OR_ … I-I mean—you know what I mean!" It would have been a lot more intelligent if I'd gotten the stupid saying right. I tried to hide the embarrassed blush that swept over me with more words while ignoring his grin of amusement at my slipup. "You're always twisting what others say, but you basically just admitted that you don't give diddely-squat about the people you say you lead and you can't take it back because it's out now."

"Boy when you jump, you pounce, now don't you?" He sighed leaning back again as if he were trying to explain an extremely simple foreign phrase to someone who had no ear for language whatsoever. "What I meant by that is, the more people you prioritize, the harder your decisions are going to be in the future. You'll find a whole lot of grief coming your way if you're constantly concerned with those people that have smaller impacts on your life."

"So, I should be impassive to others' discomfort or pain, like you?"

"Not impassive," He said and there was an odd seriousness in his tone while his head cocked in curiosity, "but you seem very keen on letting people take what they want from you. And you're so willing to give them whatever you can. As admirable as that is, there's a very distinct problem with that plan; What are you going to do when you have nothing left to give?"

I paused long enough to let his question stun me before I had my response ready. "Then I'll say "I gave my all" and I won't feel guilty about any of it."

He considered the words before the smallest of forced smiles turned his mouth up. "Well… good for you then."

There was a long stretch of uncomfortable silence.

It seemed as though the majority of our conversation was finished now so he got up, stretching as he rose to his feet and reached around to grab something. My attention turned right then to what he was grabbing and I held in a sound of surprise. It was a bat that had been leaning on the other side of the couch. Somehow, I had entirely missed its presence while he spoke and it stunned me entirely on how I could have missed that. This one had nails hammered into the barrel instead of barbed wire and reminded me uncomfortably of an iron mace. He saw my eyes just then and smiled wide.

"Oh right, you like it? Little something I got the other day. I just felt so naked without my old girl. You remember right?" There was a darkness in his tone and for some reason I was suddenly very, very grateful I had decided not to say everything that was on my mind in this meeting. "I think I'm going to call her Papa's Little Love Hand."

" _Oh my god_." I couldn't hold back this time. That was messed up more than usual!

The phrase was out of my mouth before I could even have an opportunity to think it over. Negan eyed me and I tumbled over my words. "I-I… I m-mean…"

What the hell could I even say? It was sick!

Negan laughed by the expression on my face, swinging his new weapon of choice over his shoulder as he stood there, looking all the more intimidating. "It was a good talk today. I think you're getting better at this. I'm not as pissed as I usually am after these discussions."

I didn't know how I felt about that. Any day he didn't hurt someone seemed like a good day, but giving him what he wanted—pleasing him at all, left the worst sort of taste in my mouth. Still, if placating him with these stupid talks was how I kept harm from befalling my family, or meeting the end of that new bat, then maybe I needed to consider better ways of screening my words around him.

"I guess the diamond is enough for today." He announced, pocketing it. "I'll be expecting my usual delivery next week."

A sigh of relief swept through me with the announcement and I just about missed when he stepped right up into my space and actually rested his hand on my head, covering it like a strangely fitted hat. I flinched with the contact, wanting it off. I hated, hated, HATED when he did that. I didn't understand his fascination with patting me like I was a dog, but it set me on edge and made me feel smaller with every time he did so.

I saw his fond smile and braced against the exchange, anxious for it to be over. "I'll see you next week, kiddo."

He left and I followed him out, watching as the men and our supplies loaded into their trucks. Another wave of relief filled me with their departure.

He still didn't know my secret and for another week we were safe from his clutches once again.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Did anyone see the mid-season finale? If not don't read the italic part below because I need to rant BIG TIME.**

 **.o0o.**

 _ **MOTHER FUCKER SON OF A GOD SUCKING COCK BASTARD! WHAT THE FUCK MAN! They kill off Carl—I mean I don't really like the character but I like Rick and this is going to fucking kill him. Keeping his son alive and safe has been his initial mission from the start of this horror show and they do this NOW?!**_

 _ **And fucking shit, they had to burn down Alexandria, too?**_

 _ **Fuck these writers! I hope they all get squirrel aids and DIE!**_

 **.o0o.**

 **Okay, I'm better now. I just had to get that out. Thank you for the wonderful reviews you guys. I had been struggling with this chapter for a while now because I already had part of it written, but I didn't role with it because it was taking the story in a direction I wasn't ready for yet. Unfortunately, I actually had to start over with this scene, so Negan's and Judith's original conversation had to be scrapped. But below is the deleted version of this chapter if any of you were interested to read it, because I just can't bear completely deleting my words, in the belief that I might not use them now, but I could possibly use them again later.**

 **So here is the original version:**

* * *

 **Deleted Scene**  
He strolled into the house, practically bouncing off his heals to see what I had found for him. He reminded me of a child on his birthday with how excited he seemed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the idea, determined that he was not going to get the best of me today. He was not going to test my temper and I was not going to give into those jabs.

This time I had the upper hand.

"I'm so excited to find out what you've found me, Judy. Are you excited?"

"I am actually." I announced feeling somewhat smug about what I had found. I tossed him the box containing his gift and he caught it with no trouble. I leaned back as he opened the lid and beheld the blue gemstone.

"Holy shit, girl. Is this thing real?" I didn't say anything as he held it up to the light for examination. "Wait, I know this. No… This isn't real."

I didn't say anything, allowing him to make his own conclusions about it. He could think it was fake if he wanted to. I wasn't going to spoil anything.

"Don't tell me this is the _actual_ Hope Diamond." He said, tracing over the brilliant blue stone. I only continued to stare at him smugly. "Where the fuck would you even get something like this?"

"That's for me to know and you to just wonder about." I retorted cheekily. He didn't have a response to that and I didn't give him time to think of one. "You know the name of it. Do you know about its history?"

"I know it's infamously known for being cursed."

"Oh, but it's much more interesting than that." I announced in a positively cheery tone; a tone I had never once carried in front of him before. "It's believed it originated in India, like you said, and adorned the statue of a god. Monks are the only ones allowed in the temples to tend and maintain the idols. Well one man decided to become a temple monk so he could steal the gem. Along his journey to leave the country, he was met in the jungle by tigers and ripped apart. The gem was later found by Jean-Baptiste Tavernier who sold it to King Louis XIV who gave it to his wife Maria Antoinette and on and on.

"Since then the gem has passed from one owner to the next and in its wake, all who've owned it have met with terrible misfortune! Suicide, disease, murder, utter ruin, The French Revolution, the Titanic! Its past is paved with the blood of sorry bastards and broken dreams. Did you know the day after they released the new exhibit in the Museum of Natural History, featuring its updated look you have now, is also the day the first reports of the dead walking the earth began to ignite all over the news and internet? Weeks later the entire US government went to shit and everything began to fall apart."

"The shear chaos that trails behind that thing is crazy…" I leaned back in my chair, my growing excitement relaxing as I waved the tales off. "But I'm sure you'll be fine. You seem too practical to believe in superstitions like that, after all."

He didn't seem to know what to say, but the smile he held seemed to have slowly vanished the deeper into the diamond's story I got. Now he seemed to handle the jewel with a new caution. "Oh… Thanks."

I grinned, shaking my head amusingly towards the first idea for his gift I had, and chuckled. "And to think I was going to give you a dingy autographed baseball signed by Babe Ruth and the rest of the Boston Red Sox of 1931, instead. But I thought that might be insensitive."

His brow lowered in confusion. "Insensitive?"

"Well… you know… a ball and nothing to hit it with."

With those words there was an oddly stunned expression in his eyes and I saw his mouth drop in shock as if he couldn't believe I would cross that line.

 _That's right! I went there! FUCK YOU!_

Asshole didn't recognize the taste of his own medicine.

Negan's face went very dark. "Hoping some cursed rock will do the job none of you assholes seem to have the stones to do?"

My smile remained on, if a little forced. "What job could you possibly be talking about? I'm just giving you something incredi-fucking-ble, like you asked for. Did I deliver? It's only the most famous diamond in the world, but maybe that's not good enough for his _highness_?"

"This is a pretty fucking impressive rock you've given me. Stands to reason though, where the fuck did you even get something like this?"

I schooled my features, expecting this question and very prepared for how I was planning to respond. "Turns out I'm descended from a long line of Gaelic Witches and yesterday the Order of Weird Sisters found me and hailed me as the reincarnated spirit of Persephone, the Queen of the Underworld, giving me dominion over all things dead. So, I just told the zombie horde to step aside so I could explore Washington with my mom and brother like a typical family vacation. And now I'm pretty sure I'm a superhero."

Negan stared at me, looking entirely confused as if he couldn't decide if I was screwing with him or not. Then my face broke and I shrugged with a new far more plausible possibility. "Or I just found it in the pocket of a wandering body that was dressed like a security guard for a museum. If I had to guess, I think he took the stone when things started going to shit, didn't get very far before being nom-nomed and has been wandering the wastes for years till he met his end with the impact of my throwing knife. And since I always go through their pockets for loose change, that's how I found it. I'll let you decide which scenario is more believable."

He looked disappointed, like he actually believed the first crap story before I had figuratively burst his bubble. "Knowing you, it could be either of those."

"Well you like multiple choices. You pick which one was more likely."

* * *

 **So yeah that's all I have written for that. Don't hate me if you like the deleted version better, it just really wasn't working, but I still wanted you guys to see the difference and I hope you forgive me for scrapping it.**

 **Once again, I want to say if you guys have time, definitely leave a review. I love them and they help so much with the development of this fic. Hope you guys have a good holiday season and I'll try to update again before next year.**

 **Luv ya lots and Happy Holidays!**


	37. Way of the Sword and Way of the Heart

**Chapter 37  
Way of the Sword and Way of the Heart**

It was weird to watch Dad and Aaron loading up our usual horse and cart without me, prepping to go hunting and gathering like I was used to doing. Now my job was revolved solely around remaining prepared to donate if necessary.

Only a few days since arriving back home and everything was already so weird. At mealtimes my family was now adamantly encouraging me to take far more than my appropriate ration. When I couldn't bear to reach for more of my own accord, one of them would stack a few more bites onto my plate without asking and urge me to finish it or I couldn't leave the table.

I didn't understand what this was all for, but Michonne and Dad explained that if I wanted to be useful, I needed my strength for it. I needed to be ready to donate when the time called for it and apparently, I was deeply under-weight for my size and age.

This new routine was strange and uncomfortable. I didn't like this treatment. I didn't like eating more than I was used to while everyone else's diets remained the same. This didn't feel right to me at all.

My attention once again turned to the two men as they left through the gates. Dad gave one final wave goodbye to me as they turned to go. I didn't return it. It was like a wave of rejection that hit me with their exclusion and I turned from the sight, trying not to feel hurt about this development but being hurt about it all the same.

It was for my own good, after all. But even as the words rang through my head, an aching bitterness sunk deep into my chest, making me storm angrily down the street and promptly ignore anyone who greeted me. I was so angry. So, frustrated and mad about this whole stupid mess. I was sure that Michonne would be able to talk Dad into loosening this short leash he had me on, already. Now, it looked like I was on a choke collar instead!

Speaking of the woman herself…

I stormed down the street but stopped when someone stepped into my path. Michonne was in front of me, blocking the way as she looked down. "I know you're angry, Judith." She tried to say gently. "But this is only temporary. We're not planning to keep you locked up indefinitely. Just until things have quieted down."

I huffed, still angry despite her words and balling my fists in my pockets, while I stood there.

"In the meantime, I want you to come with me."

She turned and I obeyed with no argument. I had nothing better to do, after all. We circled around our house and I first assumed she was going to distracted me with the laundry hanging on the lines and billowing in the warm breeze. I was stunned when she threw a finely carved wooden sword to me. It took me off-guard so much that it smacked me once in the shoulder before landing on the ground with a clatter.

She stood there with an identical sword in her own hand and giving me a look I couldn't discern as she stared down at the one she had tossed me. Apparently, I was meant to catch it.

"Tomorrow you will catch it." She confirmed sternly, though not unkindly. "Now pick it up. We need to get some muscle on you and we'll start by giving you a workout plan. Everyday we're going to train together, build up some meat on those twigs." She indicated my thin arms and legs, using her own sword to point them out.

"I can't help being skinny." I whined. "It's just the way I am."

"Well we're going to fix that."

I felt angry about the idea, feeling there should be no reason I need to change myself. "What's wrong with the way I am?"

"There's nothing wrong with the way you are." Michonne tried to explain. "But you're underweight and malnourished. If you want to donate you need to be healthy for that and the truth is you're not, Judith."

"But… I go outside and I exercise and I'm not fat and eat all my vegetables—how can I be unhealthy?!"

"It's very dangerous for you to donate if you stay at the weight you are now. It could lead to serious medical issues later in the future and we want to avoid that as much as we can." Michonne tried to explain. "What we want to do is get you on a regular routine with appropriate diet and exercise. I promise, Judith, this is a good thing."

I didn't really believe her, though. "Is this just to distract me from wanting to go beyond the fence?"

There was the smallest of pauses from Michonne as if she were wondering whether she ought to lie or not. "Yes and no," she finally settled on. "This is going to be part of your job from now on. We're not trying to tear you down, Judith. We're trying to build you up. Self-defense and cardio is a benefit."

I looked at the sword in my hand, wanting to be angry about it, but I had always admired Michonne for her swordplay. It would be a wonderful skill to know, not to mention extremely useful for the next time I found myself facing down some wild men like the Wolves. For a time, Carl himself had been trained personally by her. It looked to be my turn now.

"Alright," I finally sighed, caving at last. I already knew a bit of self-defense already. In school, in place of gym, Rosita would train us with machetes and other possible weapons, then instruct us on basic fighting techniques. What it all came down to and what she could never seem to drill into us enough was that if handled correctly, EVERYTHING was a weapon. A glass, a rock, a pencil, it didn't matter so long as you knew how to inflict the most damage against your assailant with your chosen tool.

It was probably the one subject in school I ate up eagerly. Going into the forest was a risk every single time. I had nothing to fear from walkers, but as the Wolves had demonstrated before, I was a fine little meal for anyone with a pulse and bad intentions. Protecting myself was priority one.

We were even taught how to defend ourselves from predators like wild dogs and bears now, too apparently.

This would be my first-time training to hone a formal sword, though. The way Michonne moved with her own katana was something truly mesmerizing. No one could ever question her ability as a warrior and the fact that she was taking time to give me private lessons seemed like a surreal privilege.

I really shouldn't have been so rude. With a deep breath I was ready to comply with her instructions.

For that first lesson, Michonne studied the way I held the weapon and my stance, correcting me where I needed it. She also took a closer look at my muscles, feeling the width of my biceps while probably taking mental notes for a regular exercise plan. She started me out on some simple drills, how to swing the weapon, how to move backwards, how to step to the side nimbly, how to keep focus—on and on.

I didn't realize how grueling swordplay really was. Michonne and movies always made it look so… effortless and languid. I had no idea how truly off-balanced I was until Michonne started instructing me on this stuff.

We worked for two whole hours, taking only occasional breaks to rehydrate. That first lesson really took a number out of me and when lunch finally came around I was starving enough to eat all the food given to me.

I was still irritated about the obvious attempt to distract me and chose to vent my frustrations out to the only one who seemed interested to hear me.

"It's just like they don't care what I want." I ranted to Mari in my room later that day. "I mean I get this is all for the town and the other communities and stuff and I want to do my part and all, but I don't want to be cooped up like this. I have two unique talents. I should be able to use both of them to their full potentials. I want to do more than just be a juice box! And they say it's only temporary but I don't think it will be. Dad's always wanted to keep me shut up behind these walls. He doesn't believe I can take care of myself out there. He thinks I'm going to get killed—but I'm not!"

Mari sat there, swinging in the hammock while I paced my room, gesturing angrily and venting till I was at the end of my rope.

She didn't seem annoyed to my rants and ravings, but listened patiently till I fell back onto the swinging bed, holding my face in my hands and groaning at the ceiling.

"Maybe… try be patient?" She said, struggling with the English words.

Her advice was like everyone else's, doing the opposite of what was intended and only made me feel more frustrated about the situation. Just when it felt like I was going to growl with more annoyance, she reached out to me and touched my hair, threading her fingers through the short lochs and stroking it back gently.

All my frustrations somehow just seemed to melt away. What in the world?

It was like a wave of pleasure instantly swept through me at the contact. I didn't understand it. Other people had stroked my hair before and couldn't summon such a response from me, but when Mari did it… something in me _melted_.

"Whoa…" I murmured, raising my elbow to glance up at her.

She drew her hands away from me, perhaps fearful that I disliked it. I didn't usually like people touching me after all.

"Don't stop!" I said, wanting the presence of her hands back immediately.

They returned to what they were doing and I lied there, a puddle of jelly while her hands worked through my hair and even massaged my neck and ears.

A wave of total tranquility overpowered all other emotion inside me. I had been so worked up over the events of the past few weeks, unable to find comfort in any offered reassurances. Who knew that a couple of skillful strokes of these hands could reduce me to a lump of relaxed pudding?

I didn't know how long I stayed there but the first thing to break through the sea of pleasure was the pressure of two lips pecking me against the brow.

My eyes snapped opened and I stared up in shock at the orbs of gold above me.

Mari drew back, a blush sweeping over her tanned cheeks and I sat up, facing her.

"L-lo siento." She said shakily, her cheeks growing pink.

There was a long moment of silence while our blushes filled the space between us. Then I tried speaking.

"Did you just… kiss me?"

I saw her swallow. "S-si. I did."

My eyes went wide with the confirmation. "H-have you wanted to kiss me before?"

Her blush grew more intense. "Si…"

 _Whoa_ … this was a big step in our relationship. I had been kindling a small attraction to her for a while now, but I never acted on any impulses out of fear of rejection. Just because I felt that stuff didn't mean she would, too. And the thought of sabotaging our wonderful friendship over something so stupid wasn't worth the risk to me. Just being close with her was enough, in my opinion. There was no pressure for more than that.

I also kept in mind her past and the trauma she endured before arriving in Alexandria. If anyone needed to set the pace for a serious relationship, it was her and she needed that to keep from regressing back to that panicked, suicidal girl.

In that moment, my attention was focused entirely on her and I swallowed in turn, listening to her continue.

"You ever want… uh… besando—or _kiss_ —me, too?"

My mouth went dry and the room became very hot all of a sudden.

"Well… I—I don't know. I haven't had much time to think of… kissing _anyone_." My eyes suddenly went to her lips just then, wondering how they would feel pressed up to mine.

Her eyes grew hazy as she leaned closer in, as if in anticipation. "Would you like to."

I could feel the puff of her soft breath against them and my heart quickened.

"I… uh… I don't… I don't really know… _how_ …"

"No te preocupes… I do."

"Well… I just… I've never… I've never actually… no one who wasn't family at least…" I stuttered and babbled lamely, probably sounding like a complete idiot and putting her out of the mood anyways.

She didn't seem discouraged and leaned forward a bit more. "That's okay."

I swallowed again, growing sweaty at her proximity.

"It's okay if you don't want to…" she reassured.

"No! I—I do! I just… I want…" What did I really want? What on earth was I waiting for? It looked like she was ready for this if she was offering so earnestly. "A—actually I don't really know what I want."

She leaned closer into me and a furtive smile played on her lips while she gazed back at me. "La promenta I careful with you."

Those words combined with her accent and the knowing smile on her face did odd things to me. Butterflies flitted through my stomach and my heart did tiny little flips in my chest. I swallowed again, summoning what I could call for courage just then.

"I… o—okay then."

Very carefully she took my face in her hands, looking down on me with a look that paralyzed me.

"Tal vez… er… _maybe_ close your eyes?"

That seemed like a good idea. If I had to watch her move in I wasn't sure if I would be able to go through with this before I chickened out. My eyes shut tight and I sat there, contemplating on whether I should pucker up or not.

It seemed like her lips were on me before I really had a chance to make a decision. It was brief and hardly what I would call "life changing." It just felt like we were bumping faces.

My eyes opened and I looked back at her, confused. Was that it? Boy did I worry for nothing.

Surprisingly, she didn't seem to be done.

Her hands were still cradling my face and I watched her as she leaned once more in, bequeathing me a second kiss, then a third that lasted longer than the first two. One the forth she did something bold. When my mouth parted absently, she took the chance to slid her tong through and graze my lips gently. A serge of feeling swept through me with that, much like what I felt when she stroked back my hair.

On the fifth kiss her hands moved to rest against my collarbone and she gently pushed me back into the pillows of the bed. Her kiss lasted longer for this one and when my lips parted again in surprise she plunged in.

I squeaked, startled by the action and sitting up, breaking the kiss through the shock.

Mari looked at me, an embarrassed blush sweeping over her for the bold move. "¿Demasiado?"

My fingers went to my lips in stunned surprise. "I—I don't know what… it definitely wasn't expected if that's what you meant."

I wasn't angry about it, just surprised. When she saw that I wasn't going to get shout or lecture her, she inched back towards me.

"¿Te gusta?"

I stared at her blankly, forgetting what gusta meant.

"Um… y-you like it?" She asked in English.

"I… well yeah I liked it."

"Again?"

She leaned closer to me, eagerness in her gaze and I just about flatlined with how pretty and ready she was. _Oh boy_ did I want to go again! If my heart would just stop hammering against my ribs then maybe I could stop overanalyzing this situation enough to concentrate.

"I… uh… yes?"

Her hands moved back to cradle my face like before. My eyes grew big at the sight of her nearing face, heat sweeping through me while my neck began to sweat nervously.

"Try to relax." She suggested.

I nodded, physically incapable of doing so even as she said it. When her lips pressed against mine, though, I melted once again. The kiss took over all of my senses and I leaned back just as before, thinking of nothing but her while I fell into the contact.

"Hey, Judith, just wanted to let you know that Dad is—,"

The kiss broke instantly when Carl—that fucking idiot—burst into my room without so much as knocking!

His words cut off as he processed the position we had been in before his untimely interruption. Face glowing scarlet with heat, I grabbed the pillow from my bed and chucked it at him furiously.

"GET OUT YOU BIG, STUPID DUMMY!"

He did so, slamming the door with a parting, "OH—MY BAD!"

The red in my cheeks was there now for an entirely different reason and only grew more at the thought that our extremely private exchange had suddenly been granted his unwanted audience. When I stole a glance back at Mari it only got worse. Oh gosh I wish she wouldn't look at me like that.

"Well…" I said, my mouth dry once more. "I—I guess both our dads are back now."

"Si…" She whispered. God, why did she have to whisper like that?

"Do… you want to go down and meet them together?"

"Si." She smiled, threading her fingers through mine. The warmth of her smile and touch of her hand brought on heat and comfort and playful butterflies I never could have imagined.

We held hands the whole way down, nearing the cart as several citizens unloaded what looked to be two well-sized does and some bags of whatever had been caught in the snares. When Aaron spotted us coming forward, his face split quickly into a large grin and I watched as he elbowed my father, pointing towards us excitedly.

I had to look away when our eyes met, my now constant blush growing even more. Dad's smile looked even larger than Aaron's had been and held something sly behind it the closer we came. At the sight of it I almost wanted to instantly drop our clasped hands , but a reassuring squeeze from Mari discouraged that idea.

When we approached them at last I couldn't stand to look at the smug look on his face. It was the same one he got when he revealed the punchline in his stupid dad jokes.

"Sooooo…" he began, "Anything happen while we were gone?"

"Shut up." I muttered, squeezing tighter to Mari's hand. Despite my resolve a small embarrassed smile graced my own features.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So, I guess it's official now. For those of you anticipating this for a while , it's finally happened. Maridith is an official ship now! I've been waiting to do this for so long.**


	38. I Can't Fight this Feeling

**Chapter 38  
I Can't Fight this Feeling**

The next morning, I woke up with aches all over my body but I met Michonne in the same place, same time for sword training just as before.

That seemed to be the schedule for the next few days and eventually I really started to enjoy our daily lessons. The aches became less and less and I eventually worked through them with few complaints.

In this time, while Dad and Aaron took in the responsibility of my weekly offerings to Negan, I was also able to find more time to spend with Mari. I guess we were now an official couple. Both my parents and brother never seemed to miss an opportunity to tease me about my new girlfriend and every time my face burst with color in response to their antics.

Once or twice I engaged in a heated wrestling match with Carl when his teasing began to annoy me, the same way he used to do when I teased him about Enid. I guess turnabout is fair play.

She often came to watch me train, which might not have been the best idea when I really thought about it. Her presence took me off guard and it would elicit my clumsier side, granting Michonne her opening every time. Don't get me wrong, I loved her support, it's just when I caught sight of her that damn blush would come back and our moments together would flash through my mind, again and again.

Mari always helped with the bumps I attained during those sessions. Not by massage exactly. Somehow, all I required from her was the simplest of touches—hand holding or a drawn-out hug—and everything would just melt away. I didn't know how it happened, really. When I compared her touch to someone—anyone else's I couldn't seemed to attain the same results as what Mari could inspire. It was strange, but interesting as well.

Even when I got worked up over being kept behind the walls for too long, Mari calmed me the way no one else could manage. Odd to think that weeks after her arrival here I was the one easing her troubled mind from various panic attacks and ghosts that wouldn't leave her be. Now she was calming me of my own frustrations.

It didn't seem entirely natural. With just one touch from her I was brought down almost as quickly as I had worked myself up.

Finally, my curiosity and suspicion grew so intense that I had to ask her about it.

I was sitting on the floor of her room that day, while she lounged on her bed, the same sheep-wool mattress I had given them now atop a stack of pallets. Her hands were playing with the strands of my hair again and I couldn't quite understand her fascination with it. Hers was much more beautiful, cascading down her back in thick chocolate ringlets while my own was thin and short and stringy with a side ponytail I was beginning to suspect looked absolutely stupid the older I got.

At her immediate touch, my head fell back against the mattress, taking in every moment of her contact.

Even through the haze I managed to remember my curiosity. "Mari?"

"Si?"

"How… are you doing that?"

"What, mi alma?"

My heart fluttered sporadically with the pet name. She had taken to calling me by it a few days after we became official. I was still trying to think of what I myself should start calling her but I wasn't sure if names like Sweetheart or Pumpkin were really suited for her. I tried calling her Honey once before, but it felt weird so I didn't try it again.

 _Crap_. Why was it so hard for me to convey affection? Gentle touch, pet names, handholding; Mari seemed so open with it but no matter what I did I couldn't seem to initiate any of it. Maybe my brain was broken.

I'm pretty sure I felt just as much adoration as she did, but how was I supposed to express it? Maybe I could compensate with gifts? Or… was that bribery? It sounded like bribery. Oh man, what to do…

My mind had drifted once again and it took all my willpower to steer it back to the topic at hand.

"How… how are you able to make me feel things?" I asked, curiously.

"No entiendo—er _understand_ , I mean." She shrugged, stroking back my hair and blazing a trail of shivers behind her fingers. "What you mean feel things?"

"Well… it's just that… how do I explain?" I turned, breaking contact with her as I rubbed my head sheepishly. "You're able to make me feel things I've never really felt before. And I know I've had a crush on you for a long time but I was just… you can do it so well, you see. No one else can calm me down so easily when I'm being stubborn or angry or what exactly and I was just wondering… how you can do that?"

I turned around to look at her and she returned my gaze with a distant sort of expression. She looked away—a move that seemed strangely… guarded somehow. "I … I know how to make people feel… _uh_ … _better_ about things."

"Yeah… you do. But _how_?"

She sighed and looked towards the door. Quietly she got up, and locked it, before facing me once again, her expression unreadable. The move set me on edge, making me cautious for the reason behind it.

"M-Mari?"

She came forward, sitting across from me with her legs tucked under her.

"Mi alma… if I… tell you secret _promotes_ —uh _,_ _promise_ not to tell anyone?"

My answer was instant. "Of course! I won't say anything." Even if we weren't dating it was only fair to do so. She knew stuff about me that she hadn't told anyone. I never even had to ask her not to, she just kept the secret.

Quietly she took both my hands in hers and looked back at me with a strange earnest expression. "What do you feel?"

My brow lowered, confused about her question before something unexplainable took hold of me just then.

A surge of unbridled joy swept through me, almost like I were a bird and using my wings for the very first time and flying—free and high and alive. And just like that, the emotion suddenly changed to something else entirely. A veil of perfect tranquility overpowered me suddenly and I fell back against the side of the bed, completely at ease about every little thing in the world. My eyes opened against the pool of ease and I looked down at our clasped hands.

Like a rubber band, my mind snapped suddenly back to reality. I took my hands away from her as if cut.

"W—wha—what… just…"

I couldn't seem to find the words.

Mari held her hands up as if to placate me, like she thought I was frightened. "Esta bien… It's okay."

"What did you just do?" I whispered, pressing against the wood and mattress.

Mari glanced down at her hand with the question.

"S—something… always able to do." She whispered. "Something inside me… let me make people feel things. Not sure how."

"Whoa… so like, can you make people feel whatever you want them to feel?"

"A little. Still learning things."

"Oh, so you're like still exploring it."

"Si."

"What else can you do?"

Mari looked down at her hands, taking her time to ponder my question. "I can feel how someone else feels. I can make people feel bad things… if I want. I think I can make them to… uh... dormir—no—uh… what is word again?" She rested her head on her clasped hands and mimed a person sleeping.

"Sleep." I answered for her.

"Si, sleep. I can make person sleep."

"Is it… is it just you? Can Tanti and Louis do anything?" If it was genetic then maybe Mari wasn't the only one with a unique ability in this house.

Mari looked a bit more uncomfortable with this question; perhaps her protective instincts over her siblings was the reason for her hesitance, but she soon answered all the same. "Tanti… Tanti _may_ have power."

I leaned towards her, eagerly listening to those words. "Like-like what?"

"I think Tanti can… _hallar_ —no, _find_ people."

"Find people?" I repeated, curiously.

"She sense where people are." She explained. Her gaze fell to the floor as a memory flitted through her mind just then. "Before we find you, we walk for long time. Tanti tell us where to go. She tell me that we meet someone _extraordinario_ soon. She lead us on and on. We stay far from many people and not sure when we find this _especial_ person. And then we find you…"

Her gold eyes looked back at me with those words and I felt my heart skitter loudly. Was that why they trusted me so quickly? Now that I thought about it, they did put their faith in me fairly easy. I thought it was because they were in awe by what I did by protecting them from the walkers, and I guess that was part of it. But they had been searching for someone extraordinary. Was that me then?

"Whoa…" I breathed in awe. "So, you… you both have a secret power—just like me!"

She rubbed her arm sheepishly. "I guess so…"

A wave of excitement hit me just then and I grasped her shoulders with wide-eyed wonder. "This—this is awesome! I can't believe it! I thought… I thought I was the only one like me! But there are three of us now! Do you know what this means?"

She looked at me, her head tilting in stunned confusion. "No. What this mean?"

My grin was large with unlimited possibility. "We can form our own superhero gang!"

"No!" She said hastily, her gaze fearful and pleading. "Please, no tell anyone. It would mean big trouble for me and my sister! Please! You promise, mi alma."

My smile dropped at her plea. "Oh, no that's not what I meant. Of course, I'm not going to tell anyone! I'd never tell anyone. You told me not to after all. I was just a little excited that's all I meant by it."

She breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing once again. "Good." Then she stood to her feet at that moment stepping over to the bed and curling up on it in a strangely frightened fetal position. She wasn't shaking or crying, but she did look troubled.

"Mari? Are you okay?" I asked.

"Si…" she whispered, tracing the flower pattern of the quilted comforter while deep in thought. I got up and sat next to her. Out of loss for anything else to do I took her hand and held it. Her eyes swerved up to me before she decidedly moved over, giving me room to lie out and face her on the bed.

I waited for her to talk, sensing an explanation for her expression.

"It just sometime… I feel frighten." She told me. "I not have bad memory you erase from me, but I still feel it sometime. At night… it hurt me and I'm scare."

"Are you saying the the spell didn't work? You're remembering or having nightmares about it?"

"No. I remember nothing… but it still… what is word… _guarida_? Something ghost do…"

"…Haunt?"

"Si… it _haunt_ me."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I can do something."

The words made her smile reproachfully. " _De nada_ , but you do enough for me."

"Well I can do more. We're in this together."

Her eyes fixed me with another unreadable expression. "I'll be alright. Just something I work through."

It didn't completely convince me though. If there was something going on with her, it was important for me to help her. That's what I did after all; I fixed things. "Mari, if you ever need help I'll be here—for anything."

Her eyes bore into me, big and gold and beautiful. She moved close and cuddled against me, her head resting against my chest to listen to my heart.

"I not feel so good in long time. I always feel better near you."

"Same here." My arms circled round her and I threaded my fingers through her silky hair. We stayed like that for a while, eased with each other's company. My mind began to wonder in that time though and eventually made it to the conundrum I was stuck in with Dad and the Saviors. The fear of being discovered and taken away by them was a dark cloud constantly over me. She should be prepared.

"Um… hey," I began, pushing a bit away so I could look her in the eye for this next part. "I just want to let you know, that if anything ever happens to me, like if I have to leave for a while there's something I'd like you to do, if you think you can."

"What?"

"Can you… look out for my family while I'm gone? It's just… they've been through an awful lot—a-and I know you've been through an awful lot too—but if you could help them… _feel_ better every once in a while, I'd… I'd really appreciate it."

Her gaze became very concerned. "Where would you go?"

The question made me turn from her, rolling on my back as I gazed up at the ceiling. "I… you know the people who come here every week?"

"Si, of course." She said with resentment, she didn't know them very well but there was a animosity in her tone, probably by the few experiences she'd had with them so far. "The Saviors. You speak with leader quite a lot."

"Not by choice."

"You worry they take you away if they find out of your power?" She deduced correctly.

"Yes. I just want to make plans if that ever happens."

Mari scooted back towards me, gripping my arm and resting her head on my shoulder. "Why not run away?"

I sat up, shocked completely by such a suggestion. "Run away?" but then I stopped and folded up around my knees, guilty by the idea.

I'd lie if I said the thought never occurred to me. Sometimes I fantasized about just leaving everything behind; the Saviors, the town, even my family and just living out the rest of my days on the island with Vanessa's ghost, learning about spells and plants and living off of the land all by myself.

I bet I could do it.

"I… I can't." I told her guiltily. "I have my dad, Carl, Michonne, the town, you and your brother and sister, and… and Negan… if I'm not here he's going to be mad. You haven't seen what he's really like, what he's capable of…"

I cringed at the various things Negan could do to the people here were I to run from everything like I wanted to. Mari didn't say anything, but I felt her rest a hand on my back, easing me with her touch and her power.

Even with it, I kept in mind the threats that prevented me from easing for one moment without her contact. "One way or another, Negan always gets his way."

"Judith…"

I turned back to her, forcing a smile despite these fears. "Just… try to go on. Find a reason, find a way. I'm sure you will. You don't need me. You lasted way longer out there on the road without my help. You'll be fine."

"But… will you be?"

We locked eyes, both pausing at the question. I smiled again, shrugging the question away. "Hell, of course I will. I'm a powerhouse warrior woman after all. Have you seen my battle scars?"

I laughed and got up from the bed. "Let's head down. Michonne wanted me to help with cleaning out the chicken coops and you needed to meet with Mrs. Byron for needlepoint, right?"

I opened the door, barely waiting for a response before I was heading down the hall. There was a lot going through my mind at the moment, but I needed a distraction from all of it. Just a few hours of hard labor and I might be able to face these dilemmas once again. But for the moment, I just needed a break.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** **Okay so big reveal in this chapter. It turns out Judith isn't the only one with strange powers. Mari and Tanti both possess some serious abilities and like Judith they're exploring each of their own off screen. Mari can't explain how it works so well because she's still learning English. Once she's become a bit more fluent you'll have a full explanation to how her powers develop from here on out.**

 **I want to take a moment to talk about both the comic, games, and show updates. I'm trying not to let their developments influence the direction I want this story to move in, but it's really, _really_ hard. I've got this story ultimately mapped out but every time I read the comic or watch a playthru or an episode (bracing myself for when the show picks up again) I can't help but think of ways to incorporate all the different scenarios and subplots into this tale.**

 **You know sometimes I really wish I could make this a telltale game. There are so many different things I want Judith to do and to say, but I know I can only choose one way for her. She can only have one personality and one choice to make. It sure does make deciding on an ending for this fic really, really hard.**

 **What I might end up doing is branching this story with a choice so that you as the reader can decide for yourself.**

 **I mean would you like everyone to live happily ever after, or would you like to suffer for all eternity?**

 **Not sure how I'm going to make that work, but we'll see once we get further into the story.**

 **BIG CHAPTER COMING UP YOU GUYS! DON'T MISS NEXT UPDATE!**


	39. Tara Terra

**Chapter 39  
Tara Terra  
**It was going to be another long day behind the walls. Dad had a full schedule lined up. It was laundry day, we were harvesting the first of the summer vegetables, and the flock, which had grown to now forty head since arriving, needed their hooves trimmed. Since Gabriel needed help with such work, Dad volunteered my services side by side with several other kids.

I wanted to groan. I did groan!

"Nooooo!" I cried when he told me around the breakfast table that morning. "Anything but that. Ram Dover still hates me!"

"He's an animal. He doesn't hate anyone." Dad said putting our dishes in the sink.

"Then why doesn't he plow down someone else for a change? He is such a jerk!"

"Gabriel needs help with it and since you dropped them all on our doorstep in the first place, you can help take care of them for one day."

"Hey, I didn't hear anyone complaining about the wool we sheared off them when I got them here! And that was hard enough all by myself! Oh, and by the way, you're welcome!"

"Be that as it may, you are still going to help Gabriel and you are not going to complain about it anymore."

I fell back in my chair, audibly groaning once again. "This is gunna _suck_!"

"Hey, watch your mouth and no complaining!" Dad reminded me firmly.

It was the last thing I said about it before I followed Carl out to work on the laundry. We had the machines, but we didn't use them in the summer, or at least not the dryers. Conserving energy for the winter months was more important and if it was dry and sunny out, it was better to put that warm air to good use while it was available.

The lines were too tall for me, so I ended up using a step ladder to reach them. When my hand reached for something that I didn't want to touch I dropped it quickly.

"Hey take this," I tossed a pair of boxers at Carl's face. "I wash mine and Michonne's underpants, but I'm not touching yours and Dad's."

"Damnit, Judy. Don't waver them around!"

"What difference does it make? They'll wave around enough in the wind."

"Well you don't have to do it yourself!"

"What's your problem?"

" _You_ are my problem."

"I'm just your sister! Don't be dramatic!"

"Ugh!" He finished pinning the last of the laundry up before angrily leaving in a huff, conveniently forgetting the basket for me.

"Jerk." I muttered under my breath.

Ten minutes later I met with several other citizens to work on the summer harvest. Onions, garlic, lettuce and other vegetables needed to be harvested before the fields turned so, we needed as many people in town to help pitch in for the work. It was hard, it was long, and it was grueling. With luck, I might have been even too busy to work with the sheep before it was time. Boy, I sure hoped so.

It took us hours of hard labor, stopping only ten minutes at a time to get water, rest and eat. By the time noon came around, there was still plenty left to do.

At about two thirty, honking alerted everyone's attention from out of nowhere and we all turned towards the gates, listening as the commotion arose.

"What the hell?" Someone said beside me. Our worries probably went towards the same place. The only people with functioning car horns were Saviors. It wasn't a pickup day, so why were they here?

As we neared the gates a wave of relief went through everyone as the people who came in turned out to be just Mike and Rosita. It looked as though they had somehow discovered a functioning van while out on their run today.

"Help! Someone help!"

Dad came into view at that moment and neared them. "What? Rosita what's wrong?"

"Mike! Mike's hurt! He's… he's bit!"

It was true. Everyone could see the stain of dark red growing on his shoulder. The yard went quiet while I felt a few various eyes swerve over to me just then. Dad, despite the situation, refused to follow their gaze.

"Dad!" I shouted, at his side in an instant. "Let's get him to the infirmary."

There was an uneasy expression on him, but he helped swing the man's arm over his shoulder and drag him there all the same. Everyone was ordered to remain outside, even his family while Tobin got to work. I lied out on a cot, knowing what they needed from me even before they asked.

We didn't have a sophisticated blood and plasma machine like what Hilltop had, but there were other ways to extract blood. A curtain was drawn between Mike and I while Tobin filtered the sample with a tube, needle and a jar. It was deeply unsettling to watch my own blood dripping into a mason jar, even more so than it'd been watching it filter into a bag. I shivered, feeling the typical symptoms arise in me. I was surprised to find out that Tobin knew what to do, but quickly suspected that he probably would have been instructed by Dr. Carson with insistence from Dad.

Giving blood was much more taxing than giving simply plasma. I felt dehydrated and woozy as it drained from me, even nauseous before the line was thankfully severed. Tobin took the sample and disappeared behind the curtain, administering it as he was instructed.

I lied out on the bed, willing my vision to stop spinning as I attempted to find my center.

A mug of tea was offered to me and I sat up to accept it. Dad sat across from me, listening to the Tobin move around while Mike rambled behind the curtain.

"I'm going to die!" The man moaned. "Why are you even bothering with that shit? I'm a hopeless case."

"If you're hopeless then it won't hurt to try something new."

"What's it going to matter in the end? I'm a goner!"

"Don't be negative." Tobin lectured.

"You expect me to be positive? I want to be with my family! If these are my last moments then I don't want to waste them looking at your ugly mug. I'm just saying!" I could hear tears in his bitter laugh.

"I'm not giving up on you just yet. Just hang tight. I'll be done in a moment, and when I am you can be with them."

"Just forget it! I don't want to wait anymore. Send them in already!"

"Alright. I'm pretty much done anyways. I'll get them for you."

He emerged a moment later, holding a suture tray with his hands spotted with blood. A few minutes later three people were allowed inside; his wife Kate and his two kids, Ryan and Suzy.

They offered only a glance towards me before they were throwing the curtain back to embrace their father.

"Dad! Oh Daddy!" They said against him.

My own father tugged on my arm insistently. "We should let them have their moment alone. Can you walk?"

I nodded and set the tea aside, following him out unsteadily. I was a bit interested to see what would happen when they all found out he was going to be okay, but even so, they were a morning family and it wasn't right to gawk at an experience they believed would rob them of their father.

"He'll be alright." I announced as we headed back home. "He won't die. I'm sure he won't."

"I certainly hope he doesn't." Dad muttered thoughtfully beside me.

"Of course, he wouldn't have gotten bitten in the first place if I was with them." I added bitterly.

Dad looked weary of this conversation. "Judith…"

"I should be out there from now on! You know I should! There'd be far fewer accidents with me!"

"It's not safe—,"

"It's much safer if I'm there to protect them! I can protect them from walkers and they can protect me from people if that's what you're worried about. But they need me to be out there from now on. Everyone does! If something happens out there it's nothing we all can't handle! We've faced worse, and we've overcome worse! I'm ready, Dad. Really I am!"

My words seemed to jar something in him and he sighed at last. "We'll plan a trip into DC in a few days. We'll take a group and a cart. We'll go after pickup day. We'll spend only a few days there and come back. Will that be enough for you?"

I grinned joyously, throwing my arms around him. "YES! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!"

"I'm going to regret this." He moaned, dismally to himself.

* * *

Mike did not die.

After a day went by and his fever broke through it was revered through town as an utter miracle. Father Gabrielle addressed it in his next sermon and prayers and recognitions were said as they thanked the Lord for the blessing bestowed on them. Of course, it rose up questions that no one could answer. Not everyone believed that such a thing was simply a "miracle". Tobin was subjected to various interrogations among town members but thankfully refused to go into detail about how such a marvelous thing could have happened.

There was a town meeting shortly after, to highlight how crucial it was to keep this as under wraps. Dad wanted to make it clear that there was no certainty that Mike had even been bit by a walker and if he had it still wasn't clear how he managed to survive the infection that claims just about everyone in the end. He also stressed that thanks to this new development, Mike could have been in danger, so it was important to keep such news from leaking out if we could help it.

My name was never so much as brought up and Dad seemed to consciously refuse to look at me the entire meeting.

* * *

When the Saviors arrived a few days after, there were conscious looks of worry exchanged from a few townsfolk and it seemed as though they tiptoed around the threatening men and women a lot more than often, with the weight of the secret weighing heavily on their consciences. Others like Rosita and Tara were more than happy to lie right through their teeth and played it off like they were heroes.

Negan didn't suspect anything but he did seem to treat me a bit differently than before. I wasn't sure what it was but ever since the necklace he spent more time considering his words before he spoke, which was out of character for him. It was normal for him to spew the very first thing to pop into his mind. Why was he acting so deliberate?

I eventually decided that it didn't matter his reasonings. I wanted this encounter to be over already. Dad said we would head out as soon as they were gone and daylight was burning so why couldn't we get this over with already?

It took forever but he eventually left with his men. The moment the gate closed behind him I rushed to my room and grabbed my prepacked bag. Dad and several others had the carts ready to get going moments later.

Aaron, Michonne, Rosita and Tara would be accompanying us today, leaving the town in Carl and Gabriel's care while we were away. Dad hoped to take this opportunity to tell the two women the truth about what was happening. They were strong workers and part of our inner circle of most trusted citizens. If we wanted their cooperation with this trip, it was only fair to tell them the truth.

It took us a day to reach the city and once Dad had disclosed to them the full details about my abilities, they stared in shock and awe towards the revelation.

Rosita had suspected something was going on the entire time, especially after our trip back at Hilltop when we returned with so many different goods. She hadn't asked about it strictly out of courtesy. Tara, however, never so much as saw it coming.

Once the shock had worn off for the two women, we loaded into the carts and headed towards the city. I road in front, steering away lone walkers and smaller herds and as we went deeper in, they gradually became larger, making me move from my place on the horse to steer them away more carefully.

Most everything in the outskirts was picked clean, so we needed to venture further in. Coming in from a different direction, we passed through different businesses on our way through. Michonne had a map of the route we took last time, but any way to find the gun store we had come across the last time proved ineffective. Our path seemed to always be obstructed by wreckage or other physical barriers. The overpass that could have taken us straight there was caved in and any attempt to safely pass it was not possible. Still, we managed to find plenty other things to compensate.

We scored big time when we found a few homes with solar panels. It took a lot of effort but we were eventually able to dismantle them from their roofs and load them into our wagons.

Aside from that we found toiletries, clothes, other weapons, tools, stationary, and cleaning chemicals that we were either out of or running low on. Though we'd adapted on ways to make our own, they were poor comparisons to what the old world had to offer back when things were different.

We also took this opportunity to stock up on things like presents. There were a few kids in town whose birthdays would be soon approaching and Tara thought it would be nice to grab some interest items like toys and games for them.

That was nice of her, especially since I wouldn't have bothered for the urchins, unless it involved the Waifs. Thinking about it now, it just occurred to me that I never actually asked when their birthdays were exactly.

"Some girlfriend I am." I muttered while Tara and I rifled through a toy isle in a Target.

"What do you mean by that?" Tara asked curiously.

"I never asked when Mari's birthday was." I told the woman. "It could have passed already and I wouldn't have even known. God, I suck."

"You do not suck." Tara consoled. "You've just had a lot on your mind lately. It's understandable, considering how busy you get. And now you'll probably be staying pretty busy a lot lately."

"I still gotta get her something! If it's passed I owe her, and if it's coming up I should be prepared."

"Well what does she like?"

"She's really into butterflies."

"Butterflies, huh? Well let's see what the jewelry department has for that."

I browsed through their selection, undecided what would be best for her while Tara offered advice about it. Eventually I discovered a beautiful sapphire teardrop necklace with silver butterflies flitting around it. I stored it in a fancy jewelry box and took extra care to wrap it carefully in a scarf when I tuck it away in my knapsack.

Tara gave me a playful sort of grin as she looked down at me. I recognized it as the same expression Dad, Michonne, and Carl held anytime we talked about my current relationship. "You know, you two sure are cute together."

I looked over at her and found not just the playful teasing, but a proud grin glowing on her face. Her expression made me go bright pink at the thought and I had to look away, embarrassed.

"Oh… uh thanks."

"The first few weeks of a relationship are always the best, aren't they?"

I shrugged, going even pinker. "Well, it's been pretty great so far."

"You know, I just about jumped for joy when you two became official."

I looked over at her. "Oh really? Why's that?"

"Well… you and Mari are both girls, you know?"

My brow lowered in confusion. "Yeah… so? You and Denise were both girls."

A look of sorrow crossed her face just then. "Yeah… we were both…"

"Ah geez, I'm sorry!" I said hastily, realizing just then what it implied. Her girlfriend had been killed by the time all this Savior business had started. "I—I didn't mean to stir that up."

"I know," she answered, staring at the ground in a daze. "Sometimes I just get so mad about it. All I want to do is kill every last one of them, Judith. When I think about Denise and Spencer and Abraham and… and _Glenn_."

There was a twisted kind of pain on her face with those words. "Do you… do you know how the group found me?" My gaze bore into her. I knew she joined us not long after we escaped the prison following the attack by the Governor but I didn't wholly know all the details about the encounter. "Do you know about… the Governor?"

"I know about him. He haunted Michonne for a while before I made him leave."

She accepted my words with a sort of sideways look. "I… I don't know how much you've been told."

"We were attacked by him and his followers." I explained. "That's why we don't live there anymore. That's what I understand at least."

"No…" Tara shook her head, looking distressed. "We were never his followers."

I stared at her, completely taken by surprise with those words. " _We_?"

There was a troubling look of pain on her face as staggered and leaned against a pillar. "I—I never would have… if I knew… he told us things—lied to us about all of you."

"Tara?"

She slid down to the floor, gripping her face and muttering. "My fault! I was the first one… to side with him. I… I was wrong! And he killed the old man… he killed him without any hesitation! I shouldn't have… it's all my fault."

"Tara?" I repeated, kneeling to her level and trying to make sense of her words. "What are you talking about?"

She looked up at me, her eyes shining with water while the dredges of a memory hid behind her expression.

"I was part of it. I was part of that attack, Judith. I didn't know what I was fighting. He told us you were all monsters. That you killed some other group. If I hadn't sided with him, my sister—my niece… It was all my fault."

My voice caught in my throat and my hands fell away from her. With a shaky voice she continued.

" _Glenn_ … I owe Glenn everything! He told me… he saved me… and after all of it… he forgave me! And I—I couldn't save him. I wasn't even there, but I thought I'd at least get the chance to do something for him someday! But they took that away! They took it all… they take… _everything_!"

I wished I was more eloquent. I had no idea what to tell her. I had no idea what to say. There were no words I could think of. None came to me. It was hard to think about how I was supposed to comfort her. This was as much a shock to _me_.

I had no idea Tara had been part of that. I didn't know the details. I was… a baby at the time! I heard stories about it and I sometimes saw the shadows of our dead comrades but no one had ever explained the full incident to me.

I _still_ didn't know the full incident, but I had a better picture of it now.

For a moment a stab of anger hit me. Then it disappeared as I took in the sight of this woman. She was hurt, she was sad, and despite those misgivings in the past, she was my friend. I had grown up around her. She babysat me as a toddler, protected me during our travels, and searched for supplies with our people. She was my family. Everyone had accepted her. She was one of us.

We all loved her.

I took a seat right by her waiting while she cried herself out. I didn't say anything. I just reached over and held her hand till she calmed again.

Eventually she sniffed and looked up again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart in front of you."

"It's okay." I told her. "I wish I was smarter so I could tell you something to make you feel better."

She gave me a watery smile. "Just holding my hand is enough, really. Thank you."

We waited a while longer till Tara was calmed enough to move again. As we walked on she talked some more.

"Sometimes I wonder if the Saviors are like what I was. Roped into a conflict that had nothing to do with me because I believed something a stranger told me. But then I see them, how they treat people—treat us… and I feel this monster inside of me. It wants out. It wants to kill every last one of them so bad. And it's so hard to hold it back. I just want to kill them! If I do, maybe it'll be quiet."

"I get the same feeling sometimes." I admitted to her. "When Negan's got me talking to him and stuff I sometimes think to myself, is there a chance I can kill him? What would work best? Should I try? What would happen if I did? And every time I decide not to, a little part of me hates myself. I wish I could just do it!"

There were a lot of things Tara probably wanted to say, but like me, she didn't know what the best words were. So, she just walked beside me keeping close and giving me the support of her presence.

It was enough for the moment.

* * *

We spent four more days in the city, combing through promising establishments and gathering what supplies and goods we could get our hands on. We really lucked out when we scored some gas and vehicles to help transport it all.

There were a few close calls when one of the group strayed too far, and just barely made it out of a thick herd alive. Thankfully, large herds were even easier to draw away than lone walkers and with a single glance from me, I had the situation back under control.

It was a nice outing from town and during that time we even found opportunities to go sight-seeing again. We saw the White House and chanced a tour through the old building, but didn't end up seeing much of what it used to be. It was in extreme disrepair like most all of the city was and the building looked to own the remnants of a fire that had burned through most of the east side of it long ago. That made it dangerous, so we didn't stay for very long.

Apart from that we viewed a few more museums, the Capitol Building, and the Supreme Court.

We even saw the Library of Congress, but that was nothing new to me. Though it was still nostalgic seeing it again, and entering into the enormous grand foyer brought on a distinct sense of longing for the friend that had brought me there first.

While we explored a bit, I perused the volumes, drawn to a poetry section.

He loved poetry...

"John…" I murmured, brushing the spine of Wordsworth, picturing yellow eyes and winding, river-like scars. "I wish you were here, now."

We didn't spend too much time sight-seeing before continuing with the work, and on the fifth day we all headed home. Michonne, Rosita and Aaron took the truck and car that we had found and stocked to compacity while Tara, Dad and I rode the horses and cart back.

Tara road next to me while Dad managed the wagon.

"So… think Mari will like her present?" She said, starting up some small-talk to pass the time.

"I sure hope so. I found out from Aaron that her birthday is actually a few days before mine, so it's a bit passed. I can save it for Christmas, at least. Or I could just give it to her… you know, just because. People do that, right? Give presents just because right?"

"Yeah. They do that. I think she'll really like that."

"Great!" I breathed in relief. "I'm… not good at expressing affection all that well."

"I think you do a good enough job with it."

"Thanks, but Mari is so open with it and sure about every move she makes because every move just seems to be the right one! And then there's me over here and I'm… I'm just all over the place! I still haven't figured out a good pet-name to call her by. I feel stupid!"

Tara tilted her head sideways, overcome with an expression that conveyed utter adoration. "Awe… look at you! So heartsick and in _love_!"

My face turned bright red yet again. "I am not heartsick… or in love… _exactly_! I—I don't know if I'm there yet!"

"It's okay." Tara said, leaning over her horse and patting me on the shoulder. "You're so young after all. Probably not a good idea for you to be getting too serious."

I frowned by that. "Why not?"

"Well… you girls are just ten years old, Judith. You have your whole life to figure out girlfriend situations for yourself."

"…Or boyfriends."

"Huh?"

"I could figure out girlfriends _or_ boyfriend situations."

She looked surprised by that, like the news took her off-guard for some reason. "Oh… do you… do you like boys, too?"

I had liked only one other person before Mari, but thinking of it now only made me hurt. "Not boys… exactly. He wasn't a boy."

"Oh… who was he? Someone in town?"

"What? Ew! No! That'd be like dating a relative!" I looked away, going even pinker. "You… you wouldn't know him."

"Well can you tell me about him?"

My eyes scanned the path while I went quiet. "He… he's gone now."

Tara looked away sadly. "Oh... Is he… did he pass away?"

"No. He just left me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was he… the Elf?"

I sighed. "Yeah he was. I just… kind of kept it up after him. You remember the Christmas after that play fiasco?"

"Vividly." Her eyebrow quirked towards me, thoughts going back to the fight I had initiated onstage with Lizzie.

"Well… he and I… with the big truck and all… that was us."

"Oh my god! That was you?!"

"Yeah…"

"You and some stranger out in the woods?"

"He wasn't a stranger!" I snapped defensively. "And I was never ever in any danger around him."

Tara stared forward, stunned to silence by the revelation. I had never talked about John with anyone other than Enid, and even then, I tiptoed around the subject. Talking about him now with Tara; it felt liberating, relieving even, but it was still a part of me that I did not want to completely expose just yet.

"Whoa… so what was he like?"

"He was…" I trailed off, looking out in thought as I tried to remember. He'd only been around a few months, but even that had left its mark on me. "He was very different from other people. He didn't need people, didn't rely on anyone to get through. He was strong. Not… not just emotionally strong but strong like nothing I'd ever seen before. I once saw him tear a door right off its hinges."

"Whoa. So, why did he leave?"

I looked away again, bitterness taking over my features while my tone lowered. "He was afraid."

"Of what?"

I wasn't sure if I could tell her. I didn't know if she'd understand. She couldn't, not unless I told her the whole story; and that would take days. My eyes closed and I tried to picture him; black hair, long coat, white skin… large eyes looking back at me like wasp stingers. My heart ached and I decided to lie, "He wouldn't tell me." I finally settled on.

"Oh… was it anything that would hurt us?"

"No. It would have already."

"I suppose so."

"I miss him." I said longingly. "I hope he comes back someday."

Tara smiled warmly to me, offering me condolences as we turned forward. "He sounds like quite the guy. I hope I'll be able to meet him if he does."

"I hope so, too."

There wasn't much talking for the remainder of our journey back and when we spotted the gates, we were met with open arms and loud proclamations of excitement and glee.

The supplies were sure to last a good long while so long as we were sure to ration it all carefully. The gifts that Tara had suggested getting were stored out of sight for later dates, letting only the parents know about their existences.

I smiled at the thoughtful gesture. Tara sure was the kind of person to suggest something like that.

She was so much nicer than I was, after all.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Okay, I know I promised a big chapter but I was reviewing my so-called "big chapter" and I was thinking to myself, "you know I'm not sure if I want to do this just yet. I think I need to make Judith a tad bit more active before this thing happens." So, I was thinking of ways to kind of fill in this gap and I thought, "Well shoot if this is the way it's going to be then maybe I should stress this occasion a little more. Especially since there's this thing that's going to happen here and I need to make it have a bit more impact."**

 **It's so hard not to reveal spoilers. But that's not going to happen! No Sir-y-bob!**

 **I really liked the dialog with Judith and Tara here. Judith has no idea what Tara is talking about and doesn't quite grasp the concept of LGBTQA. Tara really should have taken this opportunity to explain a little to her but she seems to enjoy the fact that it's all just love to Judith so it probably wouldn't even be that much of an earthshattering revelation were she to explain the different orientations.**

 **She so cute!**

 **Also I posted a new little drabble for my side-stories for Elf Tales that coincide with this story here. If anyone has anything they would like to request or suggest as a side story or one-shots for Judith and the gang I'm open to ideas.**

 **Thank you all for the wonderful reviews you guys and I promise that the big chapter that I promised is coming up—it's like seriously right after this one.**

 **Don't forget to leave a review, you know I love reading them all!**

 **LUV YA LOTS!**


	40. Taken

**Chapter 40  
Taken**  
Bianca's voice rang through the speakers of our radio as we all gathered round for the evening show. Two costars by the name of Bert Crystal and Stacy Jones joined her tonight.

"You ever play a game of Monopoly?" Bert asked, for the Light Talk segment of the show. "That is one of the most time-consuming games ever! If you ever start one, make sure there's nothing you need to do for the next three days."

"Ohmygosh! Tell me about." Stacy groaned.

"Did you know that the original version of Monopoly was actually created in _protest_ of monopolies?" Bianca added.

"Oh really?"

"Oh yeah. It's inventor Elizabeth Magie, believed in a system of shared land value and designed the game as a teaching tool to address the problems of land monopolies—but she only made about $500 off it, because some guy stole her idea, sold it to Parker Brothers and kept all the royalties for himself."

" _Ugh_ , why do guys have to ruin everything?" Bert sighed.

"I don't know, Bert, but we kind of do." Stacy responded with a defeated sort of chuckle.

Bianca laughed into the mic.

"All the war!"

" _All_ the war and _this_ too!"

"You know something though, I've _never_ actually played Monopoly." Bianca admitted.

"What? No!"

"It's true. Me and my siblings—our grandmother had it and when we went to visit her we would take out the game, but we wouldn't play it. We'd just play with the game pieces."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I liked the dog. I was _always_ the dog—Toyota."

Both men laughed. " _Toyota_?!"

"I was a little kid!" She said defensively. "I thought it sounded like Toto! I used to pretend that he was his brother."

"But I don't understand; Why would you take out a game and not play it?" Bert asked.

"Well we were all pretty little at the time and couldn't really grasp the rules, or the concept of private property, just ask our neighbor, Mr. Freeman—or I guess you can't really."

"Ooh!"

"Geeze."

"It was before, he choked on a Krispy Cream when I was fourteen. Anyways I was so terrible at math—still am!" She laughed. "But when our grandma realized, you know, we were taking out this game but we were only playing with the pieces, she got us a tin of just a bunch of different metal… what would you call them—figurines? Or no, they were pewter. Anyways, they were about the size of my thumb nail and I don't know where they came from but there were all sorts of things in there; army guys, animals, little cars. They were like Polly-Pocket sized, maybe a little bigger."

"Oh, I remember Polly Pocket. My sisters were obsessed with them." Stacy said, a bit off-track.

"I was too and I used to play with these figurines _with_ my Polly Pockets! Yeah, I had them go on candy land adventures and under the sea with the mermaids."

"My sisters had the cloud castle and the undersea mermaid castle." Stacy said.

"You know they stopped making them because they were choking hazards." Bert informed.

"Oh yeah, I can see that happening."

"But then they brought them back with what—a reboot? And they grew her to like a Barbie doll sized?"

"They were a little smaller than that."

"My daughter had like a hundred different rubber dresses and clothing items with those dolls. They were cool, but they got everywhere! And then they'd collect like hair and dust."

" _Ewe_."

"And of course, she had to play with them in the sandbox so they'd get worn out even quicker and then like crumble in your hands."

It was relaxing to listen to a perfectly normal conversation for once. It was a short segment but calming either way. It was just to fill time, anyways. Eventually they branched off to discuss the birthdays for various famous people today before wishing their own viewers happy birthday as well before beginning few minutes of uninterrupted music.

Just then there was a loud blaring honk outside. Our heads rose and we all looked up from our projects to exchange confused and worried looks.

"What on earth?"

Curiously, we got up to look out the window, seeing three Savior trucks pull through the gates all of a sudden.

"Judith, stay inside." Dad ordered, fearfully. His concern was not misplaced. The Saviors had a pickup just two days prior and it was late in the day, which meant this was not a typical visit. My heart went in my throat and I stepped away from the window, feeling it really might have been best to stay out of sight.

I remained where I was, watching from the living room window as the Saviors filed out of the truck. Negan, surprisingly, wasn't with them today. Instead, Simon approached Dad, wearing a smile that set me on edge and made me lower to the ground, watching the scene in a crouched guarded position. The window was opened to let me hear their conversation.

"Hiya Ricky-boy, how's it going today? I'll bet you're wondering why we're here." His tone was very unsettling.

"It crossed my mind," Dad announced, sincerely confused for this visit. Everyone was. It wasn't certain they were here for me, so it was best to just play dumb until we knew for sure.

"What's this about? Where's Negan? I'd prefer to deal with a leader." Dad said, but certainly not because we preferred their commander in any sort of way. One Savior wasn't much different from another. He only said it to stab at Simon.

"Bossman's a little busy today." Simon told him without going into detail, and the man stepped up to Dad, licking his teeth in a very predatory manner. "You'll have to put up with me today. Now, I want everyone out in the center of town. Round 'em up boys! This is a town meeting and everyone will be present!"

The front door burst open with two men carrying guns, ordering me out. I joined everyone in the town square, standing near Rosita, Michonne and Carl. The Waifs were escorted to the circle not long after and found their way towards me. Mari's hand clutched mine and we held tight to one another as Dad addressed Simon in the center.

"I bet everyone here would like to know why we dropped by so suddenly."

There were mixed expressions of suppressed panic as everyone exchanged looks. A few people looked over at Mike uneasily, while the man himself tried not to let himself unravel with growing terror. No one answered Simon though, because other than a few select people, they really didn't know what was going on.

"Well, we had a little trouble the other day." Simon announced. "You see, one of our guys ran into some people at the Hilltop and he and one of their guys over there got caught up in some pretty savage biters. Our poor guy didn't make it through the night. Tragic right? Only weird thing is, that other fella from Hilltop, he was bit too, in a pretty inconvenient spot, some place you can't exactly chop in that type of situation, and the crazy thing is… he lived."

 _Oh no_!

There was a terrifying ringing in my ears, drowned out only by the uncontrollable beat of my racing heart. So, it was finally time, then. The Saviors knew. My eyes swerved over to gage Dad's expression, wondering how he wanted to approach this. However way this turned, I would take my cue from him.

Simon went on. "I know, right? So far as I know, there isn't a single person alive that's been able to survive one of those bites. But they got him back to their town and the guy was right as rain within a day. That's a fucking mindblower, right? So, we started asking a few questions to the doctor, wondering how he had managed it. He was looking awfully guilty but it didn't seem like he could duplicate what he did, or maybe he didn't want to. I couldn't really tell.

"So, we tried to _encourage_ him to tell us, but… didn't seem to work very well. And you know we're down to so few options there so then we started asking around the town a bit and my old pal Gregory—the former leader of Hilltop before he was demoted—told us we might just find what we needed here in Alexandria. Said you and Jesus were acting a bit suspicious and there was some whole business involving another citizen by the name of—oh what was it—Dave something. Anyways, the guy said we should talk to you about this situation."

I took slow tentative breaths, trying to stay focused on this conversation.

"So… is there anything you need to tell us, Rick?"

My heart was pounding in my ears and my neck was sticky with growing perspiration. I shouldn't have been standing there. I was giving too much away. Dad, on the other hand… Dad was a regular superhero. He didn't so much as react to their words, other than to scoff.

"I don't know what you smoke in that Sanctuary all day but everyone outside knows there's no way to survive from a walker bite. Maybe he wasn't bitten by any walker. Did that ever occur to you?"

"It did. But we both know that isn't why he survived."

I swallowed. They weren't looking at me, but they still knew we were hiding something. Before anyone could say anything, Simon's fist slammed out, aiming for Dad's gut. He saw it coming though and caught his wrist just in time, hissing in the man's face furiously. "There isn't anything like that here. Take your men and get out!" Then he shoved the smaller man away.

Simon's eyes flashed with unrestrained wrath and the Saviors looked every bit as vengeful for the disrespect. Everyone knew he was going to pay for that. Dad didn't look a trace regretful for the move, not even concerned. He just faced him like it were any typical brawl growing in a hotheaded asshole.

No one saw the Savior come forward and strike Dad hard in the jaw with the butt of his rifle. Dad staggered, falling to his knees on the ground. He was stunned but it apparently wasn't hard enough to put him out.

Just then I saw from of the corner of my eye someone move suddenly. I turned to watch Tara pull a gun, aiming it at Simon. Even before she had time to pull the trigger, a shot split the air and a spurt of blood trailed from her hand. The firearm fell to the ground and she cried out, holding her hand where the bullet had shot it from her grasp.

A second Savior came over and hit her with his own weapon, sending the woman to the ground in one blow.

"A gun!" Simon said, picking it up from the ground. "Now where did you get something like this? You know guns are banned from your town." His own gun pointed to her temple. "So, start talking."

"There are guns everywhere outside these walls. First amendment, asshole!" Tara hissed, with vengeance. "I just fucking saved one!"

"And wasted it to try and kill me? You didn't account for our sniper in the area, did you dyke?"

Through my fear I felt a sting of fury.

"Now back to what we were talking about." Simon said, strolling over to my dad. Two Saviors grabbed his arms, hoisting him into a kneeling position. He struggled, looking furious and defiant. If this was going to be his final moments, he would spend them defying this small monster to the very last. "I heard it from a little bird that you guys are keeping a cure all to yourself. I could go through these houses, strip them dry and burn every last fucking one to the ground. But even if I did that I have no idea what it looks like. So, I'm going to save us all a lot of trouble and ask you one more time. Where is it?"

Dad looked the man in the eye, mouth trailing blood and a gleam of pure defiance stoked in his eye. "There is no cure." He said with concrete certainty in those words. "You people are stuck in a make-believe land. You're looking for a fairytale. No one survives bites from the dead. I don't know what you heard, but it was a _lie_."

Simon turned from Dad, pointed his gun and shot Tara right through her skull. Several screams split the air. Mari and I both gripped hard to one another, trembling and whimpering right where we were.

I couldn't believe it, only a few seconds before and that woman had been alive. She had… been alive, with rage and fury boiling in her stare, furious to kill every last one of them. And now she was… there was only blood… so much blood…

There had been blood to soak this pavement once before, too. Spencer's face flickered in my vision, his expression helpless and horrified while the red pooled on the ground. But it wasn't Spencer's face right now.

Tears began to trickle from my eyes and I could tell similar expressions were on every other Alexandrian face.

Simon wasn't in the least bit disturbed by what he did as he strolled back over to Dad. "Let's not keep doing this, Rick. There are kids present. Every time I have to ask, I'm going to shoot another one of your people. First shot is a love-tap, second shot is lethal. Now where is the cure?"

"There. Is. No. Cure." Dad said with a certain sort of finality.

Simon turned, pointing his gun.

"It's me!"

The words escaped me before I even considered them.

Simon fingered the trigger of his pistole, but didn't shoot. Everyone looked back at me with various expressions of shock and horror.

"Judith!" My father shouted, angry and desperate. "SHUT UP!"

I didn't listen. I wasn't going to end up talking to anyone else as a ghost, too. "It's me. _I'm_ the cure! I'm the one you want!"

There was silence. Then Simon laughed a cruel mirthless giggle. "Well fuck me sideways and call it salsa. Rick's kid? The cure, seriously? This is—this is too fucking unbelievable!" He crouched down to my father's face grinning all the while. "That true, Dad?"

Predictably, he shook his head. "No. No, she doesn't know what she's saying. She's just upset by the rough treatment is all."

The man's grin never wavered.

"Haul her in the truck. We'll take her back to Negan. If it's true," he laughed darkly, "well damn, we just hit the jackpot when we found you guys. But if it's not…" His smirk widened showing off all of his teeth. "Well… either way you won't exactly be getting her back. Negan's had his eye on her for a while."

Maybe I should have fought more to make it harder for them to take me. But I didn't. I stayed calm to keep my father and everybody calm to prevent them from doing something stupid that was most likely going to get a lot more people killed. The look Mari cast me when I turned towards her just about killed me, though.

This was the moment I had feared for more than three terrifying years. Now that it was happening, it didn't even feel real. Somewhere deep inside, everyone knew a secret like this wasn't going to be kept secret for long. I knew that and my dad knew that, too.

I was scared. The moment the men grabbed my arms, my heart was in my throat. This was how it would end, they would drag me away in that instant and I was never going to see my family again.

This was the moment I had been afraid of since I made the discovery. It was happening and I was paralyzed.

My father let out a rumbling war cry, rushing at the ones that had hold of me, but two others stepped in his way, taking the tackle while I was dragged to their truck. He rammed his fist into one of their temples, sending the man into unconsciousness. Then he turned, grabbed the other by the collar and slammed his knee so hard into his gut the man vomited on the ground. More men ran up in an attempt to overpower him, but he looked like a wild animal, reduced with the most basic of instincts; protect his child.

More people got into it. I saw Rosita slug one of them in the gut and Olivia brandishing a knife. Even Mari's face grew dark with that predatory glint in her eye as she prepared for a fight. The Saviors were pulling their guns forward and I knew I had to get control of this situation before anyone else could be killed.

"NO! NO STOP EVERYONE!" I screamed it at the very top of my lungs and everyone stopped. I turned to my father, struggling to keep my voice as calm as possible. "Dad! Dad, it's okay. Remember what I said! Th-they're not going to hurt me." I managed to force a pained smile as I looked over. "I-I'll be fine. I'll see you soon."

I turned away only when I saw them stop fighting, wincing with it all.

Then my eyes caught on Carl and Enid looking very close to rushing at the men as well. Enid had to almost physically keep Carl from going at them. Our gazes met and I realized quickly that I needed to make some last-minute preparations. "It'll be okay. Take care of the garden!"

The men's grips on me were almost painful and when one of them squeezed too tight I suddenly became very conscious of what was happening. My heart was back in my throat and I felt adrenaline pulse through my veins when I suddenly realized I was rushing in exposed. I wanted my cloak, I wanted my pack and spell ingredients. I was going into a pit with rabid beasts unarmed. I wanted something at my side. Even if that something was only a book and a poncho, I wanted it!

"Wait, wait. I-I want my cloak." I said, struggling. "I want to get my cloak!"

They didn't ease their grips and they didn't let me go to fetch my things. I was hauled inside the truck wedged in the back between the two men that had hold of me. I was walking into a hell without a bible and I couldn't recall a moment I felt more vulnerable.

"Please, I just want a few things!" I concentrated on my breathing, focusing my energy into not having a full-blown panic attack.

I was being taken away—taken away by our biggest most dangerous enemies and it was highly probable that I wasn't coming back. I didn't even know what they were planning for me. Sure, I was the cure, but that didn't mean they wanted or needed me. They had all the fire power they could ever use so they didn't have much to worry about with the walkers. Men like this took to cripple the opposing team. They crippled us by killing Abraham and Glenn. They crippled us by breaking my dad. They crippled us by trading our right to survive in exchange for half, to most, to _all_ of everything we had. Now they were crippling us again by stealing the one thing we had to even the playing field against the living and the dead.

They were stealing me! And they'd make sure I'd never be able to help anyone without their say so. To make it all a hundred times worse they wouldn't even let me take the little bit that was actually mine.

 _A spell_! I thought. _The calming spell, what was it_?

My hand went to the chain of charms and held it where it circled around my neck. I recited the chant in my head.

 _Protect me, protect my own, and protect my space. Protect me, protect my own, and protect my space._

I repeated it over and over again, and as I repeated it I could feel the lingering presence of a new spirit just then.

Tara may have stayed with me, I could feel her new presence even now, wondering in confusion for her abrupt end in life. Glenn, if he was near, wouldn't follow me. I couldn't ask him to. His murderer was where we were going and I wouldn't let him be hurt by that monster again. He was already falling too deep into that dark pit of vengeance and I feared anymore would knock him over so far, he wouldn't be able to climb out again.

So, he stayed, lingering between the space of life and death, switching from his home as he lived to his final resting place. As for Mom's spirit… I wanted her to come, but I didn't know where she was anymore. If she was still around, I hoped she would follow me. Dad may have been devastated with this loss, but he had Michonne and Carl to support him. Mari too; she promised after all. But me… as selfish as it was, I would be alone there. I was going to be on my own and the strength of her presence would be the only crutch I had to lean on.

As we were pulling away, I became intensely panicked, but focused all my energy into not breaking down around these monsters.

 _I can do this! I can do this!_ I repeated to myself. Maybe if I pretended this wasn't a kidnapping situation I would get through it in one piece and un-violated. Maybe I could pretend that I was a spy, or an undercover agent, infiltrating a base to feed information back to my commanding officers for a building attack against them.

That seemed to work, because my heart beat calmed slightly. I needed to be brave and smart to get through this.

Yeah. That's what I was. That's what was happening. I could do this.

I could do this!

It seemed so strange to believe that hardly twenty minutes earlier the day had been so normal. We were working on projects and listening to the easy-going voice of Bianca Swan over the radio.

How could things change so fast?

* * *

 **Author's Notes: I know, I killed Tara and I totally suck! It's so weird I didn't even mean to do it. I was just polishing this chapter up a bit and somehow, I ended up killing a wonderful character and don't even know how it happened. I had intentions to beat Rick up again and Tara, brave sweet Tara, just had to step up and try and take a shot at Simon before that could happen, and the fucking bastard straight up killed her! When I realized what just happened I was so confused and I was desperately trying to reverse it, yelling, "Shit, what did I just write! Undo! UNDO DAMNIT!" But I couldn't and I can't figure out how it happened!**

 **Sometimes, I think that this story has gotten out of my control here and has just grown a mind of its own.**

 **Seriously! I don't know how this happened!**

 **On another note, I guess the secret is out in the open now. Lots of pain and suffering to follow.**

 **Sorry.**

 **See you for next update! I'm super excited! Luv ya lots, guys!**


	41. Inside the Lion's Den

**Chapter 41  
Inside the Lion's Den**

We arrived at a massive factory that was heavily guarded with an army of the undead, moaning and growling at the convoy's approach. This was what I assumed must've been the Sanctuary. None of our people had ever been inside and escaped.

If I made it out—no _when_ I made it out, I would return home, tell them everything I could remember and we'd find a way to invade and crush these people once and for all. We'd call up every rival group they had managed to piss off; we'd band together, become an army, and fight them!

The dragged me out of the truck and led me up to the doors. Inside I took care to memorize the route we walked through. I looked quickly around, memorizing everything I could; hallways, the number of doors, any rooms that were opened, the appearance of the people, windows, pipes jutting from the walls, flickering lights. Anything and everything I could recall I soaked it in, storing it all for later.

Once I was sure we passed by an armory, because I saw guns—lots of guns. _That_ would definitely be important. I worked to embed everything about the route and room into my memory. When we came back to this place we would need to know where that was.

At last, we stopped at a smooth plain cell and they deposited me inside slamming the iron door as they left. There was only a small twin bed within it and a narrow window too high for me to reach. Even so, I knew I would need to see out of it. Balancing on the edge of the metal frame I reached out for it, wondering if I could grab it if I stretched far enough for it.

Still too short.

I hopped down and with some rearranging and heavy lifting, I was able to pull the bed around so that the head of the frame was under it instead of the low foot, giving me the extra bit of height to finally reach the edge of the window and lift myself up. I looked down, viewing the surrounding landscape.

A courtyard was right below, holding in what appeared to be dozens and dozens of walkers that were chained up. Some men were leading a new one in at that time, bucket over its head so it was disoriented and unable to see where they were leading it. I wondered what use they might've been. There didn't look to be many to really pose a significant threat to rivaling groups. I mean, I had heard about walkers being used for weapons before but I was pretty sure there weren't enough to actually discourage anyone with experience. Plus, they were all incapacitated, either with chains or spears so even if they wanted to use them as weapons they weren't going to be very affective. At least I didn't think so.

Of course, I didn't have to worry about such things, so maybe my judgment about such a thing was a bit impaired. It didn't make sense to me.

Well I couldn't waste time wondering about it now. My attention focused on the rest.

I saw more people; workers by the looks of it and some Saviors herding them around, looking intimidating and there to be sure that they did their jobs, or so it seemed.

Odd…

Things obviously worked very differently here.

My eyes spotted a garage with motorcycles and other vehicles. If I squinted I could even see construction equipment behind the garage like bulldozers, power shovels, backhoes, and flatteners.

That definitely made me uneasy as I imagined those machines breaking through the wall of Alexandria like cardboard.

More threats that needed to be handled, I decided.

I took the time to memorize the rest. The landscape, the forest, the buildings in the distance, the position of the sun at this time of day; whatever I thought could be of use I absorbed eagerly till the daylight had gone and I was alone in the darkness.

Once nighttime fell, I lied out on my bed, staring up at a black ceiling. I spent a good deal of time turning over fear and agitation, but mostly fear. I wasn't sure if I would see Negan tonight or at all. Maybe he had more important things to do; I hoped so but the longer I waited the worse my anxiety grew. Maybe they wanted me nervous, building it up for when he finally did show. That made sense. If I was afraid it would be harder to think clearly and he'd use that to manipulate me. I couldn't let that happen. Being stupidly herded in such a way.

I fidgeted with the charms around my neck, tracing over the different shapes and thinking of every person they represented.

The racecar: Glenn.

The brass button: Hershel.

The cracked green marble: Tyreese.

The music note: Beth.

The Purple Heart: Abraham.

The yellow glass flowers: Lizzie.

The gold braid: Mika.

The arrow head: Andrea.

The red dice: Deanna.

The wings: Mom.

And that wasn't even all of them. There were so many I realized sadly. Why did there have to be so many? Apart from these there were others that I had already found for people who weren't even dead yet. They were in my small knitted pouch back home and wouldn't be added to the chain, hopefully, for a long time.

My mind turned then to the charm I was missing now.

Tara…

The memory of her final moment blazed in my head and tears erupted in my eyes. My throat got tight and I buried my face in my palms as I cried. My heart clenched and it felt like my whole body was aching with the terrible loss.

She had always been there, a constant presence since I was nothing but a baby, but lately it felt like I was getting to know her even better than before. It was like she wanted to build a better friendship somehow and it was good and nice to have someone to talk to about Mari and John. There were so many things she'd wanted to do. So many things she had planned for and now… now those plans would never happen.

I had a shield bead for her back home. She had talked to me about how she had wanted to become a police officer when things were different. She had been fresh out of the academy when the blight spread and never had that chance. I needed that shield for her now. It should be on here to remember her by.

I wanted the others too. The six-pointed star for Dad, the finch for Carl, the goddess stone the size of a pebble for Carol, the panther for Michonne, the red horse for Maggie, and the squirrel button for Daryl.

Then I remembered I didn't have it anymore. I had given it to him for strength.

 _That's right_ , I realized, sitting up suddenly. Daryl was somewhere here as well. I hadn't seen him for years, but from what I expected, he ought to have been much changed.

I remembered a lot about him. He used to call me Lil' Ass Kicker. Negan had called me it once and I wondered if he had gotten that from Daryl. Would he have done something like that? Let the man be so privy to something that personal between us.

No, certainly he wouldn't have. It had been mere coincidence.

When Daryl came back from a supply run he was the one I had usually hugged immediately if I didn't happen to see Dad, Michonne or Carl first. He was the closest thing to an uncle I had and I wondered if he would see me differently once we saw each other again.

I remembered being little—er and watching quietly while Daryl did repairs on his bike, and occasionally handing him requested tools like I was some kind of little assistant. I told him once that I had seen his brother walking outside one day and showed him the fishhook I had added to my collection to represent him. Daryl hadn't said anything about it at first, but responded by lifting me on his shoulders and carrying me the rest of the way back home.

Before we had reached it he finally spoke. "Well you be sure to tell him that if he hangs around too much he might get soft again. You tell him that okay."

"He doesn't stay for very long." I announced leaning over his head to look down at him. "And he doesn't like talking."

"You sure it's my brother then?"

"Pretty sure."

"Well the Merle I know never seemed to shut up. Why's he still hangin' around?"

"I dunno. Maybe he thinks he needs to watch over you."

"Little late for that." He announced bitterly.

"Do you want him to go?" I asked tentatively. "Are you mad at him?"

He didn't answer.

"I'll… I'll ask him to leave if you want."

"Nah, don't do that." He said, gentler. "S'pose it's better late than never."

I didn't see Merle again after that, but I knew he was still around.

Such a memory was bittersweet in these walls.

How much of that man was gone now? Would I still recognize Daryl?

…Probably not.

* * *

I dozed off sometime in the night, and the next thing I knew the sound of the door was swinging opened and my head was lifting off of a puddle of drool. I looked up to see two men barge in and stomp towards me.

"Get up, kid. Time to see your host."

Still somewhat sleep clouded, I swung my feet off the bed and followed them. It took a while for me to actually wake up and remember why I should have been worried, but the closer we moved to our destination, the more my agitation grew and I began to tremble.

By the time we reached where Negan was waiting, my heart was pounding in my chest and a cold sweat had grown at the back of my neck. They knocked and I heard Negan's voice calling them to come in. Inside, I looked around to find a luxuriously furnished bedroom, tastefully decorated in dark tones and fine knickknacks. On the wall, I saw the stuffed head of an antelope looking towards the door like some kind of weird sentry.

He didn't hunt that.

Negan was seated in a recliner but when we walked in and he saw me, his face split into an excited smile.

"Well tickle me pink!"

He got up, looking much like a child on Christmas morning that had gotten everything on his wish list the moment I walked in. "I. Just. Can't. Even." At the sight of him I suddenly forgot to be afraid as fury took over most of my emotion. His smile was completely infuriating and I had to squash a giant urge to run up and stab him with something.

"I am utterly star struck! My mind is just blown right now." He made a gesture with his hands miming an explosion from his mind. "You're the cure?! This entire time, Rick's own daughter was the cure and nobody knew! They had the answer with them this whole time and no one had any idea! Just imagine all the friends they could have saved, all the limbs they could have kept, as well." He leaned back on his hands, smiling even larger than before. "I'm speechless."

"For once." I muttered positively infuriated. Negan was anything but speechless—ever. There was always something he wanted to spew.

"Come on." He laughed. "How can you not see how fuckingly ironic this is. Or… maybe it isn't." His face turned down in thought for a moment as what I assumed were several large questions had suddenly been explained in one fell swoop with this new startling revelation. "It actually explains a whole fucking lot. Now I get why you weren't scared as shit to go outside your town walls. Holy fuck… and you've managed to keep it secret this whole time? Damn kid. That had to have killed not to talk to anyone about it."

I didn't want to say anything to that, there was a frightening lump in my throat and any noise from me might've just dislodged it and jarred tears from me, and the last thing I wanted to do was start crying in front of him.

Negan went on without giving me a chance though.

"Truth be told, I was actually looking for an excuse to bring you back here, but your dad just cooperates so well it's hard to find a reason to do it. Plus, you worked so hard back home. I was growing fond of fresh quail eggs and truffles. You can't just find those things, you know. But now look at this… Here. You. Are."

My heart stopped by that. So, he really had wanted to take me away from the start, just like Simon said. The fact that I was the cure meant nothing. He had been planning this for a rainy day when my dad stepped out of line enough to drag me back here for good.

I could feel a wave of ice cover my skin as I stared back in horror. I wanted to talk but coupled with the lump in my throat, my mouth had gone pasty dry with that. I decided to try anyways.

"I—I n-need to go home." I insisted, trembling over the lump. "My people need me. Y-you don't!"

He laughed. "Of course, they do. Always the helper, aren't you? I bet they won't last very long without their breadwinner."

"They could last longer than you! I'll bet you can't even set a proper snare!"

"Watch your mouth!" He barked switching from delight to angry in a mere moment. "Just because I may have encouraged your cheek back where you lived because it was occasionally amusing, doesn't mean I'm going to tolerate your crap here. You talked a big talk back in Alexandria, but you're on my turf now, you little shit. So, mind what you say or you're gunna be tasting the back of my hand a lot here."

My mouth snapped closed, frightfully conscious of how ruthless he would be. I had been the big one in Alexandria. That was my home, people would always fight for me there. But in the Sanctuary, there was no one on my side in this place. I was on my own, and I needed to tread lightly. For my own self-preservation, I needed to be careful, because I really was afraid of him and what he could and would do to me.

"I heard your father tried to fight back when they were taking you. I'll have to sort that out. Behavior like that can't be tolerated."

"Simon killed my friend!" I hissed back, wanting to throw something at him, while fighting the tears that threatened to fall again.

"Your friend pulled a gun. None of you are allowed guns. If she was killed it was her own damn fault." He said cruelly. "She should have known better, and you should have fessed up sooner. None of that had to go the way it did if you had just stepped forward."

"Are you trying to tell me that it was _my_ fault? THAT'S BULLSHIT! I—I couldn't have… it wouldn't have even mattered!" I hissed, feeling disgust take control of me instead of the fright from before. "Simon would have killed her anyways, because he's a monster like everyone else in this place."

He didn't seem angry by the outburst or the use of the curse word, or the blatant insult to his lieutenant. Instead, he just sized me up with some unfeeling expression. "Maybe you were afraid. Simon has that effect with negotiations."

"You call that a negotiation? Rounding everyone up to watch a public beating? That wasn't a negotiation! You people don't know how to negotiate!"

"You don't know much about negotiation either." He countered. "From the report I heard your dad went off and shoved Simon. Not a very respectful thing to do, in my opinion. He shouldn't have provoked him if he wasn't prepared for what happened next."

"He was shoved right after he tried to gut-punch my dad!" I yelled at him. "So, Simon decided someone needed to die over that? You're all fucking savages!"

"I told you to watch your language," Negan said dangerously.

"My dad has a right to fight for me!"

"He doesn't have rights." He corrected sinisterly. "If I didn't get that message into his head three years ago and every other beating that's taken place after that then I obviously need to go back and teach him another lesson again. Maybe taking that piece of his son, I wanted the first time we met, will remind him."

"No!" I blurted, heart leaping in my throat. If he was willing to kill one of my friends simply because one of his own was shoved away, then that wasn't an empty threat in the least. "You don't need to do that. I'm here now! I'm not going anywhere! My dad knows that! He won't try anything while I'm here."

He grinned as he looked down on me in a way that made me physically sick. "Damn straight he won't." Then his expression changed. "Although to be totally honest I'm not entirely convinced." I stared at him, confused and afraid of what he was talking about. "It seems a little too easy that you could possibly be the cure. We ought to test that, to be sure."

Then he stepped up to me, grabbed me behind my neck and marched me out. I couldn't move other than to walk with him while he had hold of me like that. I was terrifyingly aware of how strong he was. His hand alone nearly curled completely around my throat and felt more than capable of crushing me, like an egg.

He pushed me along till we made it outside. A large fenced area stole my attention and I looked to see dozens of walkers chained up all around it. It was the same pen I had seen outside my window.

What was he planning?

"Here we go." Negan announced and I could hear the cheer in his voice. "If you manage to get bit and live I guess we can safely say you really are the cure then."

Perhaps I should have been horrified that he would try to test the cure out in this way, but I wasn't. Instead, I could feel myself relaxing. They weren't going to bite. They never so much as reached out for me.

Negan must've seen my relief and frowned. "What are you looking so relieved about?"

"You'll see why."

He pushed me towards the gate and the guard on duty looked confused as he stared at us.

"Open up. We've got an experiment."

He looked uneasy as he switched between Negan to me. Maybe he understood what Negan was about to do and was decent enough to hesitate before fear of his leader won out. He opened the gate and I was thrown inside smacking against one of the undead before the momentum sent me to the ground. It jumped nearly out of its rotting skin. It with two others, were within touching distance of me. If they wanted they could have probably fallen right on me and had a nice meal then and there. But they didn't.

Instead, they stared back at me, swaying back and forth, silent and mindless. At last, they moved to retreat a little, almost as if they were burning up by my proximity.

It was like a ripple. Once they had begun moving away the others seemed to follow suit, all taking to moving in the opposite direction of where I was, if able.

I looked over at Negan, gauging his reaction.

"Well fuck me sideways and call it surfing." He announced, surprised and impressed. "Looks like that answers that question."

* * *

He dragged me back inside by my neck again. If this was how I would be escorted all the time from now on, I had best prepare for bruises. I wished I had some witch hazel. A taser would have been nice, too.

The thought made me smirk for a fraction of a moment before the squeeze on my neck brought me back to the real world.

He led me to what looked to be an infirmary and on the way anyone we passed seemed to drop to the ground instantly to kneel in respect and fear. I would have been impressed if I wasn't so appalled. Not at Negan, though; not entirely at least. More for these sad, confused people. It was incredibly pathetic how simple they had lowered themselves for him. It was much more shocking to realize I could feel even less for these people than I already had.

Entering into the infirmary we met a doctor—a real doctor, complete with the identifiable white coat I had only seen in pictures and movies. Not like Dr. Carson who hadn't bothered with a white coat when I had gone to see him those few times. this man looked professional, but looks are always deceiving.

The man was just getting done with tending to a beautiful woman on an examining table. She didn't dress like the other citizens who wore mostly neutral or dark colored, comfortable clothing, which were easy enough to move around in. Instead, she wore her hair in a curly braid and was dressed in a black cocktail dress and heels that complimented her complexion but seemed greatly impractical to me.

No one wore heels.

Everyone needed to be ready for when the worst hit us, and it could hit us at any moment. I one time heard Michonne say that heels were an abomination to the human foot. They provided no armor, protection, or aid in a fight or flight situation and were unquestionably impossible to run in. Maybe these people had so much safety and firepower they could afford to wear such impractical attire.

Negan spoke when he saw the two and I took note of how the woman turned away, a shadow of fear on her face at the mere sight of him.

"Hey doc. What's the verdict?"

He looked at him without batting an eye or kneeling the way other people had done so when we passed them on our way here.

"Not pregnant." He announced.

Negan seemed frustrated with the announcement. It was in that moment that I suddenly understood. I'm not sure how, but I realized their relationship just then. I think I associated it with a kidnapped princess forced to marry the horrible villain.

Fairytales again. Somehow it always came back to fairytales with me. I had thought I had grown out of them by now, but every once in a while, I would recognize one of those distinct elements.

What was I in this tale? A witch in training ? A captured princess, like her? Or just a lowly kitchen wench like Cinderella?

So long as I could kick some butt I didn't care what label I held.

Negan spoke just then and for some odd reason I shivered by his words. "Well no big deal. We can always try again, now can't we?"

The woman seemed to try very hard not to respond to that, but I could recognize the shiver that went through her just as it'd gone through me.

The doctor told her she was finished and she got up from the table, walking out.

"I'll meet you for dinner," Negan announced and there was hardly a response from the woman.

The grip on my neck tightened as he hauled me over to the table the woman had occupied moments prior and lifted me onto it.

The doctor hardly seemed phased by Negan's treatment of me, merely continued to look impassive as he had with the woman.

"And who's this?" He asked, with a raised brow.

"That cure we've been looking for. Rick's group was keeping it all to themselves."

"It's Ms. Grimes to you, pal." I corrected stubbornly to this stranger. Somehow the thought of anyone here using my first name so informally, the way Negan used it, made me feel much more uncomfortable.

Negan reached down at that moment and hissed in my ear. "No one asked for your name. Behave and be quiet unless you're spoken to."

I hated how tense my body became by those few words, promptly making my mouth shut and I obeyed.

It was at that moment that the doctor got to work on me. His checkup was much like the one performed back at Hilltop. The only difference was the company. It was incredibly uncomfortable letting this stranger look me over while my most hated enemy sat near to witness the observation. Finally, the doctor drew away from me, pocketing his small flashlight, as he wrote something down. "Healthy, overall, but you're much too skinny."

"You're much too bald!" I retorted indifferently and was rewarded for it with a smack on the back of the head from Negan.

The doctor brought both our attentions back to him. "Do you have an idea of where they extracted the cure from? I assume it's in the blood but I'd like confirmation."

I didn't answer. I hated him as much as I hated Negan. I didn't want to help these people. Every one of them could die for all I cared. Walkers could storm this whole building and eat every single one of them and I'd step over their mutilated bodies without a second thought about it.

I pursed my lips in stubborn refusal, glaring at him with malice like it would burn him up. The doctor retracted from my gaze and Negan stepped in.

"Give us a moment." He said in a familiar dangerous tone. When the door closed behind the doctor, Negan turned to me and I had to bite back a whimper of fear. The look he gave me—the cold grin, was worse than any furious glower he could cast. It was always worse when he was happy.

"Stubborn, like your brother like your father; I get it." He began lowly. "You want to keep fighting to the end just like they _say_ they do. But here's the thing; I know, and you must've noticed by now (though maybe you haven't yet) but your father, beneath that rough-tough exterior, is a fragile statue of glass that can shatter with just the right amount of force. And true, sometimes he gets back up and he can mend himself the best way he knows how, but there will still be pieces missing and some will attach to places where they're not supposed to be and it's an awkward little statue that he makes there. Well I know that every time he loses something precious, a friend, a family member, his home, whatever; he is knocked over again and again and again; and when that happens he shatters, then he gets back up and mends and the whole process starts all over again.

"Well there are things, very important things, which he can't come back from. He doesn't suffer with physical pain or stress, it's the people and things he cares about that truly do it for him." Just then his hand gripped my face hard, bringing it up so I had to look at him directly in the eye. "Now what do you think would happen to him if he found out that I did some pretty unbelievable things to you? The kind of things you see only in nightmares and bad bedtime stories? I could take a few photos, we've got a video camera somewhere in this place and we could document it as proof to show your daddy. And he'll watch it—I'll make sure they all do and I cannot even begin to imagine the look he'll have when he sees it all. Can you?"

My mouth was dry as paste while I stared. I didn't want to imagine my father's expression of agony and I didn't want to imagine what Negan could do to me. Stuff like that didn't have names for kids my age. They would never want me to keep that information secret if there was a possibility Negan would do worse than kill me.

"I… I don't want my dad to be hurt anymore. He's been through enough." I began in a shaky voice, hoarse from fear. I tried again a bit calmer. "They said it's my blood or plasma I guess."

Negan nodded with my surrender and called the doctor back in to hear my explanation.

"They didn't really tell me if they knew why I'm this way, though. I don't think they knew themselves."

"Anything else?"

 _Lie_.

"Nothing that stands out very well." I announced a little too quickly.

"I can extract her blood and filter the plasma." The doctor announced. "But I still want to run more tests."

Negan looked thoughtful just then. "Davey!" And a man came in at his command, but my attention was diverted back to the doctor.

"How did they administer it?" He asked me.

I tilted my head in confusion. "Huh?"

"When they injected the cure carried in your plasma how did they do it?"

"They put it near the wound, or bite, I guess, and let it bleed for a while. The cells in my plasma chase out the infection carried in walker saliva."

"That makes sense. Similar to a shot for rabies…" The doctor said. He was quiet as he fiddled a bit with an automated blood collection machine, hanging a set of flat empty bags and activating it by pressing a few buttons on a touch screen. After it was set up properly he brought forward another needle and an IV bag. "I'm taking a donation now."

I frowned as I stared back. "You know it's not really a donation if you're taking it without permission, and I don't recall giving it."

"Quiet." He ordered calmly. Thankfully he didn't hit me.

I watched as my blood filtered into the bag and felt the usual complaints rise up in my body. My head began to spin and my chest grew tight, my heart beat elevated as well and I concentrated on taking deep breaths while I watched the bag getting fuller. The doctor severed the connection before it'd even filled halfway, though.

"You're like a twig." He commented indifferently. "I won't be able to get a proper sample unless I feel like bleeding you to death."

My blood was filtered into the machine and I watched the red blood cells as they were separated from the yellow plasma.

Just then the door burst opened and a screaming man was led in by three other people. He looked frantic and crazed with panic.

"Please just chop it off!" He screamed. It was then that I saw the bite mark on his arm and the blood pouring out of it in a never-ending gush. "Please, please just take it off of me! I don't want to die!"

"Moment of truth," Negan announced coming up after them. "That plasma sample ready, Doc?"

The doctor looked a little surprised by all of it, but regretfully not disgusted.

Negan had purposefully gotten this man bit to test the cure. He had no idea if it would even work but was willing to risk this man's life anyways. My stomach would have turned in disgust but I was too dizzy to concentrate on it very hard.

The doctor rose to his feet and came over, examining the wound carefully. "I wanted to run a few tests on the sample I had, just to be sure before we did anything rash."

"This is the only test that matters." Negan announced over the man's screams.

"Just cut it off! Cut it off!"

"Shut up!" Another man said, forcing a stick into his mouth while someone else tied off his arm with a belt.

The doctor retrieved the plasma sample and a syringe, filling it entirely before draining it in the man's arm about two inches from the bite.

I watched it all from my place on the table. Appalled just as bit as curious. I hadn't been present to see this all happen before with David and wondered if his reaction had been at all like this screaming, panicked man. Mike's definitely had been. Was everyone so panicked after an attack? I supposed it would be understandable. They had basically been handed a death sentence and every second was too precious to waste.

David's bite had been on his shoulder blade and Mike's had been on his collarbone. Does placement make a difference?

The doctor did as I advised the first time, allowing the wound to bleed for a bit after he'd emptied the plasma. It was good the arm had been tied off and I was a bit curious how well this man would recover in comparison to David and Mike.

Finally, after about five minutes they decidedly cleaned and dressed the wound. The man was still begging them to cut it off but the doctor silenced those pleas with a sedative.

"We should know the results within an hour." He announced once things had quieted.

"If he dies it's no loss to us. He was getting a little too cheeky for his own good." Then he seemed to notice me just then. "You'd better hope he doesn't, though. If he does, things are bound to get a lot worse for you."

The tone of his voice as well as the curl in his lip made me want to retreat in a hole. I was trembling before I could rationally remind myself that he would live. We already tried and tested it twice—or I guess three times before, now. He would live.

But there was that whisper of doubt, and the fear that came with it made me tremble.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Some real heavy stuff going on here, and it's only going to get more angsty.**

 **Negan's been holding back from his usual assholery because it was around people, public manners in a matter of speaking. Even if it was just subordinates from another community, he wouldn't want to start something that could end badly for him. He's smart enough to figure that out.**

 **What makes me so mad is that when I read other works of fanfiction people attempt to humanize Negan. The thought makes me physically sick almost. Apart from being a psychopathic murderer, he's a manipulator, an abuser, and a rapist. Of course, he denies the last two by saying he isn't just because he doesn't hit his wives, but you don't have to physically hurt someone to abuse them, and he doesn't have to hit them because they've learned the hard way not to antagonize him.**

 **If you corner someone or use leverage like withholding medication that they or a loved one of theirs desperately needs to survive, it's rape. If you threaten to kill someone they love unless they marry you, it's rape. If you intimidate someone so bad they don't see any way out of a situation without giving you what you want, it's rape!**

 **The worst of this is that he finds pleasure from all of it, and has zero remorse for any of the stuff he does.**

 **However, he's a lot less in control around Judith though, because she continues to test his patience. His façade is cracking because he's not dealing with any average adult that can be easily manipulated or intimidated like how he's used to. Judith is hotheaded, impolite, and loudmouthed, and more than that, she doesn't scare easily. The sexual innuendoes he's partial to hiding behind and allow to talk for him, can't be used in this situation, otherwise he risks looking like a child predator, and despite the scumbag that he is, there are still some boundaries he'd rather not cross. Admittedly though, it sure feels like he is getting uncomfortably close to that line.**

 **The comic version of him seems largely different from the TV version. As hard as it is to believe for those of you who don't read the comic, I personally feel he is WAY worse in television. He could almost be considered decent in the comic compared to his counterpart, if only incredibly vulgar.**

 **I kept that behavior in this fic, though I prefer to imagine comic version of him when I picture the story in my head.**

 **Anyways, long chapter and more sass and suffering to follow. See you next update! Luv ya lots!**


	42. Red is Not My Color

**Chapter 42  
Red is Not My Color**

Before leaving the infirmary, Negan took me aside in the hall and handed me a wrapped package.

"I found something that reminded me of you just the other day. A housewarming present, as it were. Just a little something to say welcome in a way."

I hated those words. "I don't want a housewarming present." I told him, fidgeting restlessly. I didn't want to play these games right now. The donation had drained me enough as it was and I just wanted to find somewhere empty and secure where I could curl up and drift for a while.

He frowned and I could tell he wasn't going to accept no as an answer. "Open the damn box, kid. If I went through the trouble to find it for you then you're damn well going to appreciate it."

For some reason, I pictured something grotesque inside; a hand, a foot, or part of a face, covered in bite marks. If it wasn't that then there was probably a bomb in it, or some other horrible trick inside that would explode right in my face. It seemed like something Negan would do for a laugh.

Or really, maybe I just wanted it to be something like that. I didn't enjoy the idea of Negan giving me something that was actually nice. I just wanted him to be a monster in every form of the word, so that it was easier to keep hating him.

As a precaution, I shook it carefully, listening for something that could give me a clue of what it was. There wasn't much of a rattle, like it was cushioned by something inside.

Then I caught sight of Negan's impatient face and knew I couldn't stall anymore. So, grudgingly, I pulled off the bow and leaned away as I slowly opened the lid. No explosion and nothing that smelled bad; so far so good. Pushing aside layers of tissue paper revealed bright red fabric.

I stared at it, confused. This had definitely not been what I was expecting.

"Well… take it out and try it on."

I did as I was told but as I unfolded it from the box I realized what it was right then and there; a bright red cloak, like my green one back home. Realization struck me then and there and I understood exactly why he had given me this thing.

His first words to me echoed in my head.

" _Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood_."

I was disgusted.

It cemented how he saw me and how he saw himself when associated with me.

Me: just an innocent little girl lost in the woods and him: a predator lurking about inside. Least he knew what he was but he had me pegged completely wrong.

I dropped it back in the box when I realized what it was.

"You're wrong about me!" I announced snapping my attention towards him.

"Oh really? How's that?"

"Don't be dumb!" I snapped. "I'm not wearing that! I'm not humoring that image for you!"

"Oh, you'll wear it." He growled straightening to his full height to tower over me just as he'd done in the forest those many months ago; just as he always did to intimidate anyone. My body shifted slightly, preparing to duck or dodge away if I saw him so much as twitch his fingers towards me. I could feel the anger of that statement but I wouldn't back down, not after all the bravado I'd just shuffled out. If I couldn't stand with what I said then I was worse than dumb… I was full of crap.

"I'm getting pretty fucking tired of this little routine." Just then his fist curled around the collar of my shirt and I felt my body being thrown to the side just to stop promptly when my back slammed against the wall. White flashes burst in my vision and my head spun with whiplash as I choked on the hold over me. Negan was talking again but it was hard to follow along when my ears were ringing.

"So, you're going to wear that cloak. You're going to stand at my side and be the Little Red Riding Hood to my Big Bad Wolf while I tear down straw and stick houses and gobble down sheep and pigs, or else! You've seen my handiwork and already know how creative I can be otherwise. So, I suggest you cut this shit out and do what you're told."

I slammed hard on the floor as he tossed me away, skinning my arm as I landed. When I looked up my vision filled with red as he threw the cloak at me.

"Put it on." He ordered.

My blood pounded in my ears, wanting to be angry. Instead, I was only exhausted, the donation had taken so much from me that I couldn't even be properly vengeful. This time around, I just gave in. My shoulders fell in surrender as I sighed, getting to my feet and pulling the thing over my head. I adjusted it till it was facing forward and kept my gaze down as Negan surveyed me. After a momentary inspection, I felt him reach his hand towards me but I flinched and tried to slap it away. He caught it with a firm grip on my wrist and a low, "Stop that!"

The move was more instinctual than rebellious but either way, I relented and held still for him to brush away some dust from my shoulder. As an added invasion, he tucked my hair behind my ear and stepped back to survey me.

"It suits you." He said. "Red is your color."

Red wasn't my color; that color had always been green.

I looked down at the thing and hated the sight of it. I hated it mostly for the fact that I actually thought it was pretty. The color was deep, the material was heavy and warm, and the decorative buttons were carved with a design of birds and roses.

Had anyone else I had known given me such a thing, I would have been charmed to receive it (I'd never wear it outside of town; the thing would stick out like a giant red pimple), but I hated it now, because _Negan_ had been the one to give it to me.

He seemed to be waiting for something as he stood there. "Well… what do you say?"

I glanced up at him, puzzled for a moment.

"What do I say about what?" I asked, sincerely confused about what he was waiting for.

"Damn it, don't be rude, Judy. This is a bad habit with you, apparently, and it's sure going to be fucking resolved while you're here. If it's the only thing you learn here then you're going to learn it and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you never forget it. Now I just gave you a gift. What. Do. You. Say?"

He wanted me to thank him, I realized right then, thinking back to the time he tried to give me a get-well present and with after the attack from those barbaric kidnappers that abducted me while I was unconscious. I couldn't summon the energy to defy him, like normal, so I just gave him what he wanted.

I looked at the floor and forced out a difficult, " _Thank you_ ," through my clenched teeth.

"Like you mean it!" He growled, making me jump by the force of it.

"Thank you." I said louder while a cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck in humiliation. I hated him. I hated him so freaking much.

"You don't have a whole lot of manners. I guarantee you'll learn those while you're here, you can count on that."

Normally, I wanted to say something witty by that, but I reframed. Common sense won out over pride this time.

* * *

I was brought back to the cell and left alone. With nothing else to do, I lied out on the bed, waiting for the moment of truth when it was confirmed that the man was going to live. Occasionally, I would start to fidget with my new apparel. Every time I looked down at it though, I had to look away in disgust.

To distract myself, I tried to concentrate on what had occurred in the infirmary but that swiftly proved not to be much better. My heart continued to ram against my ribs almost as if it were incapable of stilling itself. My stomach grumbled at that moment and my thoughts safely turned to food now. I had only been allowed water since the blood donation and given nothing to eat all day. I hadn't had much to eat the day before either.

What had my last meal been?

Tomato soup with toast.

I hadn't been all too hungry then, but now I was thoroughly starving and regretted turning down the cookies Mrs. Byron had offered me when I went to visit her and Mari before going home.

"Mari…" I muttered to the emptiness.

I tried not to think too much about family, my loving girlfriend, or home. Those thoughts would just make me feel worse about everything and I didn't feel like crying again. But the only other subject of interest that I could concentrate on was food, and that wasn't much better. If I thought of home, my chest hurt, and if I thought of sustenance, then my stomach hurt. Although in total honesty, it seemed like a rather minor pain when comparison. And then there was the thought of being here all alone and it all made everything that much worse. All these different emotions tended to create a horrible sensation of hunger and nausea that swirled around inside and made me dizzy.

I wasn't sure if I was famished or ill; maybe both. After careful consideration, I wondered if eating would be wise, especially if I was likely to toss it all up out of looming dread and homesickness.

Before leaving the infirmary, I had heard Negan ask the doctor if there was any medical advice he needed to be sure I was in prime condition to donate regularly—if the transfusion even worked, that is.

The doctor leaned in and said lowly, "Get some pounds on her."

I groaned by the memory, glancing down at my pathetic little physique. I was so puny.

Just then, the door opened and a man came inside.

"Time for dinner." He said pointing out. "Come on."

I was confused and scared while I trailed silently behind the man, following a path I knew.

At the most, I was expecting a sandwich in my cell, not a dinner call. I even preferred it. There was a sinking suspicion in me that said I would not like my dinner companions. I already knew who one of them would be but any others were a blank. With sudden dismay, I considered that perhaps I would be dining only with Negan and wasn't totally sure if that would be better or worse.

If something were to go wrong I sort of wanted a witness there just as a precaution. Yet even with an alternate guest it was anyone's guess how his behavior would compare to a private meal.

I was disgusted with myself. Had it really come to this? Was I so afraid that I couldn't bear the thought of being alone in a room with him? What happened to the brave girl that had faced down this creep in the deep forest, surrounded by his goons? The girl that had challenged and sassed him openly in front of her own people and had destroyed the symbol of his tyranny? She had seemed so fearless and angry back then. Why the hell was I even scared of him right now? It hadn't been the first time I was alone with him.

That was when I remembered that it had been on my turf back then. I was protected to an extent in town and even felt powerful in the forest. It was as much my home as our house back in Alexandria.

I knew it.

And now I was here, in this foreign place, surrounded by enemies and terrible people that wanted to use me in a thousand different ways, each more horrible than the last.

I told myself repeatedly that there was nothing to be afraid of. I had dealt with this monster before, but again it had always, always been on my turf. I wasn't in danger in Alexandria or the woods, not really. People would protect me and even though my dad was cowed in Negan's book, I knew he wouldn't dare hurt me in front of him. Dad would kill him without a thought to consequence or repercussions if anything happened to me. If there was something I trusted in entirely, it was my father's love for me. I trusted that without a doubt.

Yet even so, my imagination had a way of running wild and I decided I definitely wanted someone else there. The focus was already bound to be aimed enough at me. Having a third presence may just curb his interest for a few brief moments.

Butterflies flitted in my stomach, churning up more sickness and it grew agonizingly confusing on whether I was sick or hungry.

 _Come on! Pull it together!_ I tried to tell myself.

Negan was scary, but I just had to get through this one meal. I'd use what Dad called my "table manners" and do my job at being the polite well-behaved visitor. For my own self-preservation I needed to be smart and behave for once, even if every instinct in me screamed to roar and lash out like a caged beast. Tame was not my nature.

 _Behave! Behave! Behave!_

The man led me to a large lavishly decorated lounge. I saw him there along with several beautiful women playing card games or just sitting around looking bored. More confused now than ever, I looked around wondering what the point of bringing me here with these ladies could have possibly been. Then my eyes caught sight of the woman from the infirmary, the one that had gone in wondering if she was pregnant.

Our eyes met across the room and I could tell she longed to say something to me. But before that could happen Negan stole my attention.

He smiled large as I entered and my escort left without another word, leaving me there with the women and the loose cannon. My focus wasn't on him for long as I glanced curiously around the many ladies surrounding me. They all had different body types, wore different black cocktail dresses, and were of different ethnicity, but one factor that they all shared was that they were extremely beautiful.

Negan noticed me staring and leaned down. "I know right. All the women where you live dress like elderly lesbians."

I glowered with those words, hatred firing straight through my core. "Tara _was_ a lesbian!" I informed loudly, making every eye turn towards us just then. To be totally honest, I didn't actually know what a lesbian was but I had overheard a conversation between Tara and Rosita once about it and Tara had referred to herself as one.

Negan went a little pink and for the briefest moment looked uncomfortable with the outburst.

Then he brushed it off and turned in the room to address everyone. "Ladies, you have a nice dinner now." Some of them smiled and waved while he exited, others looked relieved as he went. But the first lady did neither and followed us out.

"I'll bet you've got to be hungry." He said walking over and putting his hands on my shoulders as he led me down a hall. I wanted to tense immediately up and wipe his contagious grip off me, like wiping off something slimy. "You haven't had anything to eat since yesterday, you gave a blood donation, and thanks to that it saved a man's life. Congratulations, you've just become a very important person."

I was already important before it was common knowledge, but it was a good thing I decided not to say that.

 _Keep it in check._ That's what I had to do. _Keep it in check and watch what you say, Judith._

 _I can do this! It's just dinner! I can do this! It's just dinner!_

He steered me to a dining room where we found a fine set table laid out with piping hot food. I was seated on Negan's right while the man himself took his seat at the head of the table. The woman sat across from me and it occurred to me just then that I didn't know her name. I thought about asking but a cautious glance at Negan told me I shouldn't speak unless issued and not to her either way.

This was fucking ridiculous. I hated myself for being this submissive.

So, I instead focused on the food to distract me and at the sight of it I felt a wash of saliva fill my mouth. It was a whole chicken dinner with buttery potatoes, rolls, fresh sweet peas, and a whole savory roasted chicken.

A dinner like this would be a miracle for our town. We only ate like this on wildly special occasions and even on those days we all couldn't eat enough to get that full, keeping in mind we had to save some for everyone else. Besides, the Saviors tended to take all the good stuff anyways.

Far lately, my family always encouraged me to take more though, insisting that I was a growing girl and I needed to keep up my strength.

It never felt right to me, though. I didn't like having special treatment for being a kid or being a freaking cure. There were people who were starving and I couldn't stomach a bite if I knew someone was going hungry for me. My dad played that card constantly, but I wouldn't let him skip his meals. I'd make him eat, arguing nonstop till he relented and finally consumed what was on his plate.

If I went out of my way to get that food for him, he was damn well going to eat it.

A pang of homesickness overpowered me just then and I glanced again at Negan. Before I could talk myself into this meal out of worry of letting it go to waste, I reminded myself of what it all really was. He hadn't cooked this. He hadn't hunted or gathered or grown anything here. Nothing on this table had been earned by him. Not one bit of it.

My hunger was lost to disgust in a single moment and I knew then and there that I wasn't going to be able to stomach a bite of any of it.

I could refuse if I wanted and tell myself repeatedly not to feel guilty for the wasted food. And it wouldn't go to waste I was sure of it. Someone hungry enough would be able to eat it all. That's what I told myself at least.

My hatred of him was strong enough to overpower starvation and a new sensation of defiance overpowered me just then. I wasn't going to accept his services. I learned to care for myself years ago. The only thing he could give me that I would accept were those gates opening and letting me out for good. That was all I wanted out of him and I wouldn't take any more than that!

Negan looked down at me.

"What, not hungry?"

"I guess I've lost my appetite," I announced propping my elbow on the table and leaning my head against my hand. "Plus, I had a cracker before I left Alexandria so I think I'm good."

The woman looked at me in shock then snapped her gaze fearfully to Negan.

He smiled but it seemed somewhat forced as he looked down at me. "You know kid, I'll admit I was damn giddy when I found out you were the cure and it gave me just cause to bring you here with us instead. You're strong, resourceful, and got bigger balls than your dad even. I value those things. And your occasional sass could be passed off as something almost charming if I'm in a good mood. But my humor only goes so far and someday you're going to really piss me off and when that day comes, I'm gunna break your jaw." His eyes grew dark and all joking had vanished from his face just then, making me swallow hard. "Then whatever food you manage to scrounge up for yourself in the woods after that had better be mashed into a nice paste you'll be able to drink through a straw." His smile dropped into something so dark it was almost like the light had been sucked out of the room.

"Nothing and no one will hold me back if I think you need to be sorted out." His voice turned into an unholy growl and my nerve and iron will instantly dissolved into nothing. "So, I suggest you stow the attitude once and for all and _eat your goddamned food_." With one final look towards the woman across from me I caught her eyes widen with insistence, silently pleading for me to comply. It dawned on me with that look, just how terrified of him she truly was.

So, I relented.

Eating when hungry, yet sick with fear and guilt and anger all at the same time is strange. You want to gobble it all down quickly and then vomit seconds later. Plus, the food was richer than what I was used to, so that didn't help much. My poor stomach was confused in so many ways.

Mess with my head—fine! But please leave my stomach alone!

In the end, I only finished a roll and half a wing. I made a harder attempt to at least finish my beverage and was relieved to find it was cider rather than alcohol, like what Negan was downing.

"So, what do you think of my wives?" He asked sipping on something that made golden spirals against the glass when held in the light.

His words brought me to a halt while I stared back in shock. "All those ladies are your wives?!" I blurted in shock.

"Yeah. I don't understand that whole one wife rule. I always wanted to fuck a lot of women. I like many kinds," then he glanced at the woman whose name I still didn't know and smirked proudly, "though, there are those I prefer over others. Wait, do you know about fucking? I can't remember."

"Sort of. It's sex stuff isn't it?"

"Not going there." He stated suddenly, waving the conversation along. "No fucking way."

I didn't know where it came from, but those words turned my stomach in a way that was entirely new to me and I was twice as sick as I was before. I didn't know a whole hell of a lot about sex, I mean I knew it was something adults did together. It was something you did while naked and it involved kissing and whatever, but I didn't fully understand it. Not really. Honestly, I didn't quite understand the need for it, but any time the subject was brought up with my family, they assured me that someday I would understand, most likely after I hit puberty.

"Why so many? I'd think that would be exhausting. I mean that many wives—they've got to nag the hell out of you?"

The woman had been in the process of drinking something just then and at my announcement choked sharply on the beverage.

Negan didn't seem bothered by the question. "I only take the best. They came without the nagging. Why? Does your stepmother nag your dad?"

"She's just my mother and my dad doesn't _need_ to be nagged." I said simply.

By that announcement I saw the shadow of an amused smirk cross the woman's face.

Negan didn't see as he looked down at me. "But I do?"

My brow cocked in surprise at him. "I'm not sure how you are with your wives, but I imagine there'd be plenty to nag about."

"You're bound and determined to only see the worse in me."

"Maybe that's because it's _all_ I see."

"That seems a little unfair, especially when I've complimented your fine qualities."

"My fine qualities are easy to compliment because I actually practice them."

"Well apparently humility isn't one of them."

"I'd say we're short on that virtue all around. Other people can be better at that if they want."

"But not for us, right?"

I looked at him darkly, my voice lowering a few octaves. "There's no such thing as 'us'."

"Jeez kid, you jump to the most outrageous conclusions. Honestly what kind of gutter mind do you have?"

"Don't get fresh with me. I'm sure mine is all fairytales and lullabies compared to what goes on in yours. I wouldn't touch it with a thirty-foot pole."

The woman stared at me like she was looking at a bird that had just learned to cuss obscenely.

Meanwhile Negan's eyebrow rose as it usually did when I spoke in a way that went beyond what was considered proper banter for someone my age. "You talk like a forty-year old English teacher."

"Does that mean you took _real_ English courses!" I exclaimed in mock surprise. My hand smacked my face in an added dramatic flurry, feigning an expression of astonishment. "I thought for certain you were fluent in only profanity!"

The reaction from the woman was instantaneous. She was drinking again and the moment it had burst from my mouth and she saw the look on Negan's face she choked sharply on her beverage, hacking and sputtering, concentrating on working her lungs free of the liquid and doing her best to mask what I assumed were chuckles as coughs instead.

"Maybe you need a moment to pull yourself together, Sherry." Negan said darkly.

She didn't look at him as she got up. "I think I do."

When she was gone it was just me and him.

It came from out of nowhere. There was a crack in the room and my face whipped suddenly to the side. I didn't even register the pain till I realized what happened.

Negan had hit me.

My hand pressed against the place where his hand met my face and I looked back at him in shock.

"That's been long overdue. I've put up with enough of your crap in the past. But you're under my roof now and if you're staying here you're going to learn to behave and mind your fucking manners already, just like I said you would. Understand?"

My voice stuck in my throat and I couldn't answer. It hadn't hurt as much as I expected, much more startled me.

" _Understand_?" He insisted dangerously.

"Y—yes."

"Good, now eat the rest of your food."

I was quiet while I turned back to my plate. The smart thing to do would have been to leave it be but there were times when it seemed like my attitude occasionally had a mind of its own.

"You know I'm just making jabs;" I said in my defense. "It's not like I killed anyone or ever made threats about killing anyone."

Negan looked over at me by that, I could almost see him actively trying to recall a time I had done so, but it didn't look like he could. "You're right. I can't exactly punish you for such little things with all that considering. And in all honesty your occasional impulsive bouts are completely harmless, if only irritating at times. I'm not one to get all sore because someone made fun of me. I can laugh at myself, but there's a fine difference between jokes and disrespect. And as meaningless as your jabs are, they open up far too much insubordination and I can't have that. If I let a little kid talk to me with such disrespect, imagine how that might go down among my men and all those other subordinates."

"I'm just a kitten batting at the tail of a lion." I defended, though my sarcasm was so well it was undetected. "What does the opinion of a child matter to someone with a vision like yours?"

He chuckled. "Exactly! Why should your opinion matter at all? Why the fuck should I care at all about the insolent thoughts of a snot-nosed brat."

I looked sideways at him, waiting for any move that seemed at all hostile but he just went on.

"In all honesty, I don't. Your opinion doesn't matter in this place. But keep this in mind the next time you open your mouth; just because your opinion doesn't matter doesn't mean I'll sit and listen to it. Those are your own words I think. So, do yourself a favor from now on and keep your mouth shut!"

Upon his order, my mouth snapped closed and I looked down at my plate in silence. It had just gotten a hundred times more awkward. After a while of picking at my food and taking occasional small bites, I leaned back and said, "I think I'm done. Can I go to the cell?"

"No, you're not leaving until you've cleaned your plate." Negan announced. "So, throw it back or whatever you've got to do, but you're not leaving with that much left on it."

"I'm not used to eating this much." I tried to explain. "Don't I have to like, work up my appetite?"

"Well then just sit there. You can at least visit."

I chose a corner in the room and glared at it, refusing to look at him. "I think I'm done with that as well. Don't feel like a very visiting mood, right now."

"Stop making this so difficult."

My fists slammed on the table and I leapt to my feet in outrage for his statement. " _YOU_ MADE THIS DIFFICULT!" I shrieked, losing my patience at last. "I never wanted to come here! I never wanted to be the stupid cure in the first place! But who cares about that as long as you get your way, right?!"

He said nothing but rose to his feet as well, a calculated expression over his face. I prepared for another blow, but he turned to the door instead. It seemed as though dinner would be put on hold.

"Why don't we go for a little walk, girly. There's something I want to show you."

It didn't take a genius to guess that whatever he wanted to show me was not going to be anything good. I knew that but I still followed him, because really, there was no other choice.

"You've been curious about your Uncle Daryl, haven't you?"

My lips pursed in anticipation, suddenly understanding what would be at the end of this walk, but I nodded all the same.

"Yes. And you've refused to elaborate on his condition for years."

"Well allow me the honor of putting some of those worries to rest at last."

I swallowed as we came to a tin door that led out to the courtyard surrounding the factory. He opened the door and I followed him out towards the fence. I glanced out at the hundreds of walkers surrounding the building and grimaced. Some were chained up, others were impaled with spears or pipes, and some where stapled to trees. I spotted one that was even entirely limbless, strung up with a hook and dangling in midair.

They should have been put out of their misery, buried or burned, where they could return to the earth and be safe and warm again with the mother Gia. The ancients believed we were all just borrowing these bodies we walk around in and towards the end of our lives we need to return back to where we all first came from.

These things were people once. How far must a person fall to forget that? Some of the shadows of who they used to be lingered near their bodies, flickering between planes of existences as if they couldn't decide where they were going.

"This way," Negan directed me, bringing my attention away from the gnashing monsters and the ghostly shadows. We came up to a man I recognized, whose face was burned badly on his left side. "Dwight, he around by any chance?"

The man only pointed, apparently knowing who "he" was referring to. I followed his hand but I couldn't see anything other than a few workers.

One of them was roughly pulled from the rest just then and I had stifle a gasp at the sight of the one coming forward. Daryl stood in front of me, though it was hard to tell based on my memory. This was not the Daryl I remembered.

All I could say on his condition was that he was much changed.

This man's movements seemed in a way, mechanical, more so than even the motorcycle he'd spent hours bent over, repairing and making endless adjustments to while I watched as a littler girl.

"Daryl Dixon?" I had always called him by his full name as a child. It was my thing and he always knew who was calling by the way my voice squeaked over his last name.

He looked towards me and the shadow of recognition crossed his face. Before I knew it, the old fire I recognized was back in his gaze and I spotted my uncle under the years of abuse that he wore. His eyes turned up and he growled at Negan.

"The fuck is she doing here? What you want with her, you bastard?"

With that word, Dwight socked him roughly in the jaw, sending him to the ground. A pained shriek left me at the abrupt violence.

"Manners, Daryl," Negan grinned. "I thought you would have learned by now."

"The fuck is she here?" Daryl demanded, seemingly unfazed by the blow. "You hurt her?!"

"Calm the fuck down, Daryl. I'm not going to hurt this little spitfire." His hand ruffled my hair in demonstration. "She's too fucking important to waste carelessly."

"The fuck you talkin' about, sicko?"

Negan looked like he would burst with happiness at the opportunity to tell Daryl the big juicy news. "Well, Daryl Dixon, as it so happens, your little friend here happens to be completely immune to walker bites."

Daryl's brow lowered in confusion at the strange news but he disbelieved it a second later. Maybe he was like me; if it was coming from Negan, it had to be a lie.

"Bullshit." He said. "Don't fuck with me, you wack sicko. Why the fuck is she really here?"

Negan looked genuinely offended. "Hell, you really think I swing that way? She's ten years old for fuck's sake."

For a brief moment, he looked like the Daryl Dixon I once knew. That fire that was in his eyes was back and he looked like he would spring at Negan, consequences be damned. "You so much as touch one fucking hair on her head—,"

"Maybe you'd like to hear it from the horse's own mouth." Negan suggested turning to me expectantly. "Why don't you go ahead and tell your dear Daryl Dixon the truth about yourself, sweetheart. Go ahead, then."

My eyes flicked from Negan to Daryl before falling on the dirt. I didn't want to say anything. I didn't think I could voice it out loud. I am the cure, we had it the whole time and no one knew. All the friends and family we lost could have been saved if I had come forward sooner. Dad said it wasn't my fault, but that didn't diminish the guilt in me that grew bigger and bigger every day when thinking about it.

The silence stretched while I kept my gaze on the ground.

"Judith?"

I looked at him, and the look I gave him was all the confirmation he seemed to need. Daryl's expression was utterly shocked. "Bullshit," he said, as if saying the word would prove such news wrong. He caught the guilt in my face though, and the word slipped out again, more forceful, "Bullshit! There ain't no freakin' cure!"

"No of course, you're right," Negan announced as if he had been kidding the whole time. "I mean we already tested it, but it wouldn't be too impractical to double check just to make sure."

With those words two Saviors grabbed Daryl and hauled him to his feet.

"What are you doing?" I could hazard a guess what was going to happen, but I desperately didn't want to believe they were about to do what I was afraid they were about to do. "Stop! Let him go!" They dragged Daryl to a pair of the walkers chained to the fence and I rushed forward, intending to attack them.

Something snapped me back just then and I felt Negan's filthy hands on my neck and shoulder, restraining me.

"Get off! Don't touch me! Let go!" I hissed at him, thrashing in his hold. The men pulled my uncle dangerously closer and closer to one of those chomping starving creatures. "No stop it!" I screamed, trying to rip away from my captor.

I watched helplessly, probably hard enough to actually leave bruises this time as my uncle was pulled forward towards one of the more rotted out walkers and, with a withering shriek of terror, he stared with wide eyes as it bit into his shoulder, tearing away a scarlet red chuck of flesh and nerve. My own scream was lost over the bellow of his cry.

At last, Daryl was released and fell in the dirt hard on his back. His roars of fury cut the air as he held the area where the teeth had torn into him and I knew from the way he howled he could practically feel the infection taking hold of him.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" He shouted to the sky. From his place on the ground his furious wide eyes turned to Negan, who still had hold on me, and he roared at him. "You sick, evil FUCK!"

"Language, there are little ears around." Negan said, completely unfazed by what he'd let just happen. My eyes stared in horror at the blood gushing from Daryl's open wound and water filled my mouth as I felt the small dinner rise up just then. When the metallic salty smell hit me, I bent over and vomited on the ground, coughing and hacking.

"Jesus, kid, I would have thought you'd gotten use to the sight of blood by now. Don't you go hunting?"

At the time, I couldn't think of anything in response to that. My mind was focused completely on my injured, dying uncle and the panic coursing through me kept me from acting. For a moment, I entirely forgot what to do. It was the first time in my life I'd ever seen a walker actually bite a person. Around me, no one was ever harmed, but outside the peripheral bubble of protection I seemed to emit, everyone was vulnerable.

I knew these things were deadly but being me, I completely forgot how lethal they truly were. After all, when you don't have to worry about something attacking you, such dangerous things tended to slip the mind. When they remind you, though, it's with a vengeance. In that moment, I didn't know what to do.

Negan still had a hold on me but when I stilled in shock I felt his grip loosen ever so slightly. With that, I found my opportunity to escape and pulled away at last, running to where Daryl fell and kneeling where he was.

"Daryl! Daryl Dixon!" I said, skidding in the dirt and putting pressure on his wound. Ugly red soaked my hands, creating a sickening stain. In barely seconds my hands were covered with that shining crimson. It blended too well with the cloak. "It's going to be alright! I swear it's going to be alright!"

I heard him growl, much like an animal caught in a trap that knew its moments were limited.

"FUCK THIS SHIT ALREADY!" He hissed.

I caught sight of Negan standing over us, his grinning face cast in shadow while he surveyed our place on the ground. I had been here before. Right after he beat my father and the result had led him to internal bleeding that required surgery. There was never any other time when he looked more enormous. It hadn't exactly hit me until then just how powerful he really was. I might have been the cure but it was through his will alone whether or not Daryl would live.

"Please— _please_! I—I _need_ to save him!" I pleaded. The words left a horrible rancid taste on my mouth—or was that the vomit? Here I was, on my knees and begging to this depraved monster. Without a doubt, this was the lowest moment of my life. I had to grovel because refusing to do so would mean he died and I couldn't bear that guilt. " _Please_! Let me save him!"

He knelt down to my level and the smile he gave me sent a shocking cold chill through my whole body. I could tell by that look that it was going to cost me, even if his next words said otherwise.

"Shit honey, of course I'll let you save him. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

 _Apparently, the kind who lets lesser monsters eat men alive to prove a point;_ the words were in my head but they remained as thoughts. I wouldn't test him at a time like this.

Two Saviors assisted in hauling Daryl to his feet and taking him to the infirmary. Negan and I were close behind and when there, I was instructed to lie down on a cot while Daryl spread out on one directly next to me. A needle and tube inserted under the skin of my arm and out flowed a long trail of red. This time the doctor didn't bother with the plasma machine but administered it directly near the opened wound.

Daryl seemed to have gotten worse in a matter of moments. There was a cold sweat on his forehead and he was shivering as the expected walker fever took hold of him. In time, he looked dazedly up at the ceiling, watching something that could only be seen by his eyes.

"Don't die." I murmured to him, feeling the strength in me swiftly drain away. My head spun and I sunk into the pillow, watching through a hazy sort of vision while the doctor cleaned the fresh blood from his wound and begin to wrap it carefully with gauze. I only moved again when he severed the tube connection.

"No. H-he needs more." I tried to object.

"You've given him enough."

"He'll die."

" _You'll_ die." He countered.

"I don't care about me."

"Well you should. Here." He pushed forward a glass of juice and I struggled to grasp it. "Drink up. If you don't want him to die then take care of yourself."

Without a response to that I sipped slowly, wetting my parched mouth and keeping my eyes always on my uncle.

* * *

 **Author's notes: Whew! Long chapter today.**

 **So, it finally looks like Daryl's made an appearance at last. I know there's been a lot of people wondering about him and I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry for putting everyone through this horror show.**

 **So, it looks like there's a lot of abuse that takes place in this chapter and of course Negan doesn't consider it actual abuse since he compares it to simply disciplining a misbehaving child but Judith is only talking back and saying what's true. Even if Negan dislikes it, if he really believed his behavior towards things is in the rights, he'd be able to argue why with no need to resort to physical violence.**

 **He is such a dick.**

 **Still, Judith would say it's better he's taking it out on her instead of someone else. Girl, that is not healthy. And goddamned it, Negan, Judith just donated like four hours ago and you're going to make her watch her uncle bleed out?! Someone, save those two!**

 **One little update, if you didn't notice I changed the chapter titles for Chapter 1 and 2. Somehow they just didn't sound right. I know, I know, I'm so indecisive.**

 **Just so you know I'm still taking requests for any short drabbles anyone would be interested in reading. I'm working on a few involving Judith's birthday and some of her adventures in the woods, I may even do a few of Rick and Judy out on hunting trips together and their interactions during these outings.**

 **I'll see you again next update and again, thank you for the wonderful reviews, you guys. They mean so much.**

 **Luv ya lots!**


	43. Gilded Cage

**Chapter 43  
Gilded Cage  
**I couldn't remember when I passed out, but the next I knew my eyes were opening to the sensation of an incredibly dry mouth. There was little success to wet it with my own saliva, but I managed to focus on a pitcher of water on a table next to the bed. I took the glass on the table and drank hungrily, feeling instant relief. Just then I heard two voices behind me and turned to the sight of the doctor shining a light in Daryl's eyes and speaking lowly.

"And how are you feeling?"

"Like I've been kicked while I was down." The other man announced.

"Well it's better than being dead."

"…No, it's not."

"Daryl Dixon!" My head snapped up before I was ready, giving me a head-rush as a reward for the haste. Yet even while my vision dimmed temporarily, I still managed to untangle from my bedding and scramble over to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders and just about crying in relief for his miraculous recovery.

His response wasn't what I'd been expecting, however. Somehow, his body seemed to instinctively stiffen, like the contact burned him somehow. For three years he had known nothing but Savior cruelty. How foreign did such an exchange feel for him? Did he remember what it felt like? In all that time had he ever even thought of me or of the town? Did he think of Dad and Carl and Maggie and everyone else?

It was then while my arms encircled him that he began to tremble. It was almost like the contact was physically hurting him somehow.

Curiously, I pulled away from him, mindful that perhaps so much intimacy could have been affecting him negatively. I didn't know the details of how he had been treated in this place but I expect it had been neither kind nor humane.

"Daryl?"

For some reason, he wouldn't meet my eyes. He turned away at the sight of me, the shadow of something like shame overtaking his features. For some reason, I was afraid it was because he may have thought I had deceived him and the rest of our family in some way. Now that it was confirmed that I was the cure, maybe he expected I had purposefully hid that from everyone.

"I swear I didn't know, Daryl. I really didn't. If that's why you can't look at me right now then I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Those words seemed to bring him back to life. "What? What are you apologizin' for?"

I struggled against a lump forming in my throat as my own head bowed with shame. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know what I was and I would never have hidden it if I did!"

"I don't even know what yer talkin' about, Judy."

I swallowed nervously for the next part. "I…I thought you would have been angry at me… since I'm… you know… the cure."

"What?!" The word blurted from his mouth before he could stop it and for the first time there was a crack of a smile on his face. "You sorry for savin' my life?"

"No. I just thought you were angry about… well about all the people we could have helped. If we knew then maybe things would have been different."

Realization hit him at that moment. " _Oh_ … that's what yer talkin' about."

I held my face in my hands, shamefully, "Yeah… I'm just… it's so awful."

His mouth opened to say something but whatever it was never escaped as we both turned at the sound of the door opening. We shared looks of displeasure at the sight of Negan strolling in, smiling that sickening smile of his.

Couldn't we just have this moment without it being tainted by him?

"And how are the patients today? Better for sleeping for _two_ whole days, I hope. Lazy bones."

"Two days?" We both repeated in complete shock. There was no way. How in the world could we have slept for two whole days?

"That's right, two days. Sure, hope you kids got your rest for that time. You've both got a big day today." Negan turned as Dwight stepped inside at that time. "Time to get a move on, Judy. Dwight and Daryl have their own things to work on and I've got a real good surprise for you."

Any type of surprise coming from him was not one I wanted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daryl's head bow reflexively at Dwight's entrance. The years of enduring their every whim and torment had worn him down like a beaten dog.

I didn't move for the longest moment, my attention focused on his bowed, nervous silhouette. He looked less like my uncle now than ever before.

"Oh, he'll be alright, honey." Negan said, in a tone resembling something like reassurance. "After all, he's lasted this long with us."

That was not comforting.

There was still nothing I could do about it, though. If I stalled any longer he would drag me out by the hair and Daryl would suffer some more. So as a final move of encouragement, I leaned towards my uncle and kissed him on the brow, hoping it would restore the strength he would need to continue another day.

"I'll see you later." I whispered to him.

The stiffness he had displayed when I attempted to hug him was back. How much did a person have to break to find the physical assurance from someone trusted as an experience that seemed almost painful?

What on earth had they done to this man?

I didn't catch the expression on Negan's face as I followed him out, but it looked like his smile had dropped momentarily. I followed in total silence until I remembered the surprise he'd mentioned before.

"Where are we going?" I asked hesitantly.

"It's a surprise." He responded, uncomfortably cryptic.

"I've decided I don't like surprises. They're rarely something good."

"Oh, you'll like this one."

I had a few choice things to respond to that troubling statement, but wisely decided not to act on the impulse, choosing a safer topic.

"They didn't let me pack anything." I said, thinking to the way I'd been callously brought here without a chance to get so much as a change of clothing.

"No need. We've got everything you want here and if not, we'll find it for you."

"I highly doubt that." I muttered, thinking to all the irreplaceable things and people that had been left back home.

As Negan escorted me away from the infirmary I was literally too drained to put up much of a fight. Maybe this was how it was going to be from now on. Maybe he thought that if I remained this sapped for the majority of this visit, I'd be easier to control. Considering my track record for compliance, I wondered if there would be anything left of me afterwards.

Feeling defeated, I followed my warden down the path that looked to be leading us back to his room and the wives' chambers. I expected we must have been going back there till we reached a door and he opened it for me, stepping aside so I could enter.

I blinked inside a completely furnished bedroom decorated expertly with soft colors and Victorian furniture. It was like stepping into an entirely different world. No other room in the entire factory looked like this. Everything looked to be brand new, making it appear more as something you might see out of an old Veranda Magazine. It even smelled slightly like fresh paint with a lit scented candle sitting atop a desk, seemingly in a weak attempt to hide the musty smell.

Inside was a tall twin bed complete with throw pillows, a dust ruffle, and a beautiful thick star quilt which I recognized as one of Mrs. Byron's. They had taken it from her the moment she had cut the cord. Beside the bed there was a small desk stocked with stationary, a pair of twin bookshelves, a dresser with a stereo and several accompanying CDs sitting atop it and an enormous wardrobe. There was even a small flat screen TV with a DVD player sitting on the dresser with the stereo.

I was completely baffled at the sight of it all. It looked as though they spared no expense to set this up. Why on earth would they go to such lengths to do all this? I was not on their side nor would I ever be on their side. So, why go out of their way to provide these things?

"Not like your old room," Negan explained from his place as he leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of the room himself. In that shining, black, leather coat and the spiked bat slung at his side, the overlord looked incredibly out of place among the delicate décor. "You've got an actual bed now. I was sure to give you the best. We want you comfortable here."

Those words twisted inside of me and left a horrible kind of nausea. I would never be comfortable here, no matter the luxuries they provided. This attempt had been wasted on me. I said nothing about it, but it seemed pretty obvious that he was looking for a thank you of some kind. "Well?" Negan was still standing in the doorway, gauging my reaction towards this space and definitely waiting for gratitude. "How do you like it?"

I looked out at it and suddenly the sight of this room filled me with utter bitterness.

In complete honesty, I felt much more comfortable in that cell they shoved me in when I first arrived. That other room was dank and empty and had only the rusted bed and plastic mattress to fill it, but it had also held… _possibility_. This place was already laid out the way someone else wanted it. My personality was nowhere to be found within this place. It was an alien to me.

Instantly, I missed my room back home. The furnishings may have come off as tacky and dingy, but I had gathered them myself, I had filled that room and made it mine. It was home.

This place wasn't.

I was a witch. I needed my spells, ingredients, tools, and totems. This place was far too exposed against other evils. It _looked_ nice but it wasn't.

I glanced over at him. "You told me once that I should never lie to you, but if I don't, I get the feeling you're going to be pissed off. So, what should I do? Be honest or tell a lie."

His smile dropped and he growled through his teeth. "You could try being a little grateful, how 'bout?"

"Oh yes, I'm certainly very grateful I've been dragged to a place where I can't even go outside the fence. If I'm good you'll only beat my uncle _a little bit_ from now on."

"Careful!" He snapped, holding that same unhinged fury he did not long ago. "Though, I can see now it's obviously pretty difficult for you to use whatever weak filter you have, you've done your best to stretch my patience thin and I've quite honestly had enough of your shit. If you need a new lesson I'll drag that bastard in here and show you just how merciless I can be. The next time he's bit he can die for all I care or I might just shave off a piece of him and hang it up somewhere in here to remind you if you start to forget again."

My lips pressed tight and I looked away from him, keeping all my smart retorts from surfacing.

He took my silence to speak again. "So how bout you tell me what you think. A lot of work went into this place, so try not to be too much of a bitch when complimenting it."

My eyes moved over the décor and I migrated over to the shelf, examining a strange knickknack while I considered my next words carefully. Now I knew I felt more comfortable in that first room. At least it didn't try to hide what I was; gilded cages are still cages.

But the memory of Daryl having his neck ripped out still lied fresh in my memory and I was afraid of what Negan might do to him if I continued to be insubordinate.

"It… _looks_ nice," I said woodenly, emphasis on the "looks". It may have _looked_ nice, the same way a bear looks cuddly, but looks are deceiving. This room felt in no way nice, at all. He looked like he wanted more than that but eventually resolved that it was all he would get. And yet something occurred to me abruptly and I just couldn't resist my next words. "There's just one thing about it I can't forgive…" I said.

"What?"

The shadow of the smallest of corrupted little smirks and a judgmental raised eyebrow graced my features as I glanced sideways at the room, "… _Pastels_?"

His reaction was instant. "Alright you little brat, I was ready to tolerate a little of your insubordination the first few days, but I will not put up with that kind of cheek, no matter what!"

I wanted to growl.

"If you want me to be honest it's a good hotel room." I finally settled on. It was neither a compliment nor an offense and I thought it was most appropriate. "A temporary shelter. A bed and a roof. It'll never be home."

"I hope for your sake, you'll be changing your tune about that real soon, sweetheart. You're going to be staying in this _temporary_ shelter for a long, long time. If I have anything to say about it, you're not going to be seeing your hometown ever again, anyways. So you can put any ideas of going back there out of your mind." Then all at once he suddenly stomped forward, moving into my personal space and herding me back till I hit the marble countertop of the small round table. I was trapped as he leaned over me, much in the way he'd done when he first gave me the crimson cloak that tangled around me like a nasty, bloody fist. My hands gripped the sides of the cool stone while my neck craned to look up at him. He didn't touch me, but he was still far, far too close for comfort while my whole body trembled, listening reluctantly to what he had to say next.

"I want you to listen carefully." He said too soft to be harmless. "I liked you in Alexandria. I liked how capable and battle hard you are… or _were,_ now. It fucking _kills_ me to think all that potential has to go to waste, but you're not going to act that way here. You're too special, too fucking important now to let wander around in the wilderness. Your dad was a real neglectful piece of shit to let his little girl do that, and on her own, too. You might think he was giving you freedom by giving you that space, but he wasn't. And you might think you're brave and capable to be able to wander around on your own like that, but you aren't. If those fuckers we put down after they kidnapped you the first time isn't proof enough, I don't know what is.

"So here, you're going to have to reinvent yourself a bit. I get that it's going to take some time and that's probably going to be a little difficult for you, but ultimately, it's a much better decision. You'll be far too tired and weak to even _want_ to go out, anyways. If I have to drain you dry for you to understand that, I will, though I'd rather not.

"So, this room is yours now. You will use the things here, wear the clothes in the dresser and closet, and appear beside me at my beck and call."

"The fuck I will." I hissed venomously, feeling the fight in me grow more and more the longer he talked. "I'm not your goddamned doll or your pet, you asshead! I'm not going to change—not for you, not for anyone! I don't need to be improved! I'm perfect the way I am!"

He gripped my face harshly, keeping my gaze on him while he sized me up ruthlessly. "There's no denying you're a perfect little snot! But while you're here, you're whatever the fuck I say you are, princess!"

"Get off! Let me go, you grade-A creep!" I struggled with his hand on my face, trying to force him away from me.

"That's enough!" His grip on me tightened and he slammed me down on the table, knocking the wind right out of me while also caging me in and making me terrifyingly conscious of how close he was to my proximity. I didn't like this! I didn't like this at all! It felt like I was suffocating!

My legs flailed out, trying to find purchase to kick and hurt him the worst I could, but he'd positioned himself to the side of me, out of reach from my furious strikes.

He slammed me down a second time, stunning me enough to make me go completely still. It looked like he wanted me quiet for this next part, so I shut up.

"I don't like punishing you, or slamming you down like this just so you will get a simple message, if you didn't know. But when you talk like that to me, it's very difficult to contain that impulse, so do me a favor and stop testing me. I'm not some cartoon villain if you haven't noticed yet, so don't expect me to exercise restraint simply because you're a child. I'm honestly quite passed that with you. So I suggest you stow the attitude, princess. You don't want to see how far I'll go."

The name made my skin crawl, and it wasn't just because his hand was on me. "I'm not a princess, I'm a witch." I muttered, angrily, trying not to tremble in his hold on me.

"Really? I don't see your magic wand anywhere." He laughed, releasing me at last, and stepping away, letting me sit up shakily. The sound of it alone was like feeling a snake slithering up my spine.

I scoffed by that comment, rubbing at my face where he had gripped me viciously. I was trembling hard with the roughness, but he hadn't drowned the rebellious inferno inside me despite that horribly frightening demonstration, only stoked it. "You don't know anything about _real_ witches and we wouldn't reveal our secrets to those with such small minds. It would be wasted on you."

He looked angry that his demonstration had apparently no affect on me. "If you're a witch then why don't you use some of that so-called magic to help you solve some of your own problems, little girl?"

"Don't tell me how to be a witch!" I snapped, still on the table. "If I wanted rules, I'd go to church! Plus, I'm still learning! And since I've been so rudely dragged here it looks like my tutelage will need to be postponed along with everything else."

He seemed to be severely annoyed by my tone and snapped in retaliation. "This is a waste of my time. There's just no pleasing you is there?"

"Sorry, I can't help that around you. It would be a lie otherwise."

"Well you had better learn, and you better do it fucking fast. If things haven't improved by tonight when I see you for dinner I'm going to make both you and Daryl wish he died from that bite. From now on anytime you step out of line, that bastard is going to pay for it in his skin."

With those words, I reluctantly went quiet at last, my head bowed and I glared in submission at a corner.

"You understand that?" He questioned loudly, as if I was idiotic. "Does that register in your thick skull, Judy?"

I flinched and nodded. "Yes."

"Good! Now clean the fuck up. You're filthy and I don't want you stinking tonight when I see you again."

With those final words, he turned sharply and slammed the door in my face.

I tried not to let the insult hurt me, but despite my resolve, furious, shaken tears came anyways and they wouldn't stop.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** **Jeez, was that last comment really necessary there? She's a freaking little girl, you ass!**

 **Things were starting to get pretty scary right there. Negan was way out of line with that. Sometimes I feel like this story writes itself at times.**

 **Okay so I made two little references in this chapter; one was for Morticia Addams from Addams Family Values when she was in the diabolical Black Widow Debbie's mansion and she savagely criticized the woman's decorating taste. The second was a nod to Moana when Negan called Judy "princess" and adds by saying "How far I'll go!" I know the moment was sort of a poor place to put a joke like that there, but I just couldn't resist.**

 **This chapter was a bit shorter than last week's but the next one to come will probably be pretty long, so it'll compensate for the briefness of this one.**

 **Thank you all for your lovely comments and reviews, and I look forward to all your future ones.**

 **Luv ya lots!**


	44. The Wild and the Tamed

**Chapter 44  
The Wild and the Tamed**  
For the next few hours I remained in my "room" shoved in a corner and folded into a tight little ball. I didn't go near the bed or any of the other things provided inside. At the first opportunity, I tossed away the crimson cloak and left it in a pile on the floor.

Wearing it made me feel as though Negan had his claws in me. I knew he did even now, but that thing made it tangible, made it feel that much more real.

I never thought it would have been possible to be surrounded by the peaks of luxury and still feel utterly uncomfortable.

Negan had left with a demeaning stab to my hygiene before leaving. It was stupid to get carried away by such a pathetic little remark, especially when I'd been insulted much worse long before that, but the words had a strange effect on me. It was the final straw that broke the camel's back, so to speak. For the past few days I had tried to keep it together but now that I was alone at last, it all came apart. I had been strong for too long and now it tumbled out of me.

After maybe an hour or so, a knock came from my door.

My head popped up with a start, stunned briefly by the unexpected noise. "Wh—who is it?" I asked trying to disguise my voice from sounding too teary.

"My name is Frankie. I was told to come down here and show you the ropes around the Sanctuary."

My first instinct was to send her away, but I wasn't sure how productive that would be. Yeah, I was upset and I hated everyone here, but it wasn't very smart to stay ignorant about this place. If I was going to overcome something—an illness, a problem, an enemy—then it was best if I knew more about them so I could beat them.

Getting up shakily, I did my best to swat the tears away. I didn't want her to think I had been crying but when I observed my appearance from a vanity mirror I saw what an absolute mess I'd been reduced to. My eyes and nose were puffy and red and I looked pale and trembled frightfully.

"Um… give me a minute." I called back to her. I was relieved to find a sink in the room and used it to rinse the salt and red from my eyes, making me look a bit less like I was losing my mind at least. When I believed it was the best I was going to do, I turned to the door and opened up to find one of Negan's wives standing in front of me.

She was pretty, had red hair that curled at the ends, and wore a black cocktail dress like the others I'd seen from before. She seemed surprised at the sight of me and I suddenly realized I hadn't done that great of a job in disguising my tears like I thought.

"Are... are you okay?"

"Why do you care?" I snapped back bitterly.

"No need to be rude, I'm just trying to help make the transition here a little smoother for you."

My glare narrowed at the idea. As if I would want this to be easy. "I doubt you can do that." I announced.

"Well like it or not, that's what I'm trying to do. The way you take it depends entirely on you. So, if you're going to make it rough, it's going to be rough, if you make it easy, it'll be easy. That's going to take some time to get used to but if you're smart it won't take very long."

"I'm not really known for my smarts." I told her. "And even if I was, I still wouldn't want this to be easy. It's never going to be home."

"Then your stay here is going to be very long. Hopefully you'll change your tune in time. If you don't, it's all just going to get worse and worse."

I raised my chin determinedly, "I'm prepared for that."

She glanced at me with wide, shining eyes. "No, you're not."

From the tone of her voice and the look on her face, it seemed apparent that she had endured her fair share of torment from Negan and the Saviors. What sort of life did they give people here to warrant such an expression? A stab of unexpected pity swelled in me for her.

"Now come along," she told me. "There's a lot I have to show you today, and get your cloak. Negan told me he wants you to wear it."

I grumbled at the thought, picking it up where I had discarded it. "So, Negan wants me to wear my collar, huh?"

"We all wear collars here." Frankie said, tugging at her own black dress. "We're all owned by someone; if you fight against it, you'll just choke yourself. So, save yourself a bit of pain, and give him what he wants."

The idea was abhorrent to me. Giving in so easy? What kind of pushover did she think I was?

I followed her through the corridors till we came to a large mess hall of some kind, which had somehow been converted into something resembling a market and barracks. There were beds and curtains serving as dividers between each to create makeshift rooms of a sort. She walked ahead of me, speaking as she lowered down a flight of stairs and cut through the crowd of people and goods.

"There's a system here." She explained, weaving through it all. "Some people grow stuff, some people make stuff, some people find stuff. You can get whatever you want; cider, bread, cut your hair. Maybe give you a decent hairdo."

"It's fine the way it is." I snapped tugging at my signature side-tail.

"We use a point system here." She went on, pretending not to have heard me. "You're one of us now, not th—"

"I AM NEVER GOING TO BE ONE OF YOU!" I had roared it before I even knew it had come from my mouth. The few words that had come from her had ignited something beastly in me, and the wild thing had snapped out viciously at the mere idea.

 _Me_ , one of the Saviors? I'd rather be in hell!

The volume had apparently been strong enough to reach straight to the rafters because everything in the whole hall seemed to stop entirely by that outburst and all eyes turned to me. The moment I realized what had happened my face blazed red and I felt my neck begin to sweat again. Frankie looked stunned speechless along with every surrounding person as she stared at me. A quick glance from her, though, seemed to have reminded everyone quickly of some unspoken threat, because everything suddenly returned to the way it was before, almost like my outburst hadn't occurred.

"You better watch what you say, and get control of that temper of yours." Frankie announced lowly. "There's only one temper I want to worry about and it's not yours. You don't want to be one of us—fine. But there are still rules and a way of doing things here. I'm just trying to tell you how things work, and if I were you I wouldn't bite the hand that feeds you."

" _I'm_ not another trained pet here." I hissed back, "Negan should have thought about that before he brought in a wild animal. I don't need to suffer kindness or handouts from you people. I can feed myself just fine! _I_ never needed to rely on anyone for that!"

Frankie frowned by that comment, looking displeased. "I don't have the authority to make you eat those words, right now, but if Negan were here, he'd make sure they were your last meal."

"Good! I'd be dead in a few days and wouldn't have to see him ever again!"

"Look, honey, I understand you're upset, but having an attitude like that isn't going to get you anywhere in this place."

"I don't want to _be_ anywhere in this place so I don't imagine it really matters."

"Have it your way" Frankie sighed. "Follow me then."

I did so and she led the way through the factory, giving me the tour while she pointed this and that out to me.

"Before I was so rudely interrupted," she continued, "you're one of the higher-ups here, not a worker. They eat shit, we eat good."

By "they" I realized she was talking about the gloomy looking workers that seemed to be everywhere and turned in stunned disgust to hear her speaking of her own people in such a demeaning manner. She didn't see me though and only went on, pointing to someone keeping marks in a notebook. "Write what they did, what you took, how much it was worth and sign your name. That's it. You're at the top of the food-chain here. Unlike them you don't have to earn points. If you see something you want, you take it."

With those words, I knew I wouldn't be doing that. They wanted me to, which is why I wouldn't.

"Fuck that. There's not a single thing this whole place has to offer that I would want." I announced immediately.

" _Rude_." Frankie lectured. Though fed up with my attitude, she didn't seem particularly offended nor angry about my outburst. "Everyone wants something, eventually."

"It looks like you don't know a whole lot about _everyone_ then."

Her eyes rolled by that and she turned on her heal, merely continuing with the tour. At the end of it was the same room the rest of the wives were conversing in, just as if they hadn't moved the first time I'd seen them.

"I know you said you weren't going to eat but Negan still told me to feed you." Frankie asked. "We're about to have lunch. Why don't you join us?"

" **No thank you**." I refused immediately. My stomach betrayed me though when it growled loudly.

 _Stupid bodily functions!_

"Do you really want to starve yourself?" Frankie asked. "It's a slow and painful death, plus I doubt your family would want you to do that if you ever wanted to see them again, and with the position you're in, you'll need your energy if you're going to be donating as often as I expect they'll make you."

"Don't you talk about family with me, lady! Negan said I'd never see my family again, so it doesn't look like I have much motivation for staying alive, anyways."

"Negan says a lot of things." Frankie tried to amend. "If you please him, do what you're told, I'm sure there will be rewards in return for that complacency."

"Yeah, right." I scoffed glaring sideways at her. " _Sit, speak, shake, roll over. Good girl, here's a treat._ I bet you've been trained well, haven't you?"

Her mouth dropped in shock, utterly stunned by my harsh words and unable to think of any response for it. A dark shadow crossed her face and she looked less than eager to speak again to me. I felt almost bad about the harshness of my words, but I wasn't about to apologize for it. Once more it had all been true, and if she couldn't swallow that she had no business talking to me. It certainly looked like she didn't really want to after all, however, she must have been given a set of orders that were not to be disobeyed no matter how much I tested her limits. Her fear of her master seemed to win out over her dislike for me.

"Be that as it may, I've still been told to get you some food. Eat, or all the possibilities of seeing them again really will be obsolete."

My mouth pursed in anger, because despite my resolve she did have a point. My stomach had hurt the moment I left the infirmary, but I had fiercely ignored it. Walking around the Sanctuary made that very difficult, especially when I caught sight of various pickled goods, roasting meat, and steaming pots of soup over fireplaces. My mouth flooded with saliva every time, and despite turning from those sights, the smell of it all continued to taunt me and was far harder to shut out.

"Come on," Frankie led me inside. "We're not such terrible company."

"You're Negan's _wives_." I spat it like a curse word. It was disgusting. _She_ was disgusting—they all were. It didn't matter what reasons they had to do it; they caved! I had neither respect nor pity for them.

"Yes, but we're not Negan." She countered. "If you talked to us, you'll find we're very different from him."

"He chose to marry you," I snarked, "so there must have been something about you that he liked and could trust and if that's the case, I don't think it's anything I'm going to like!"

"He just likes us for our bodies. It's a… uh… an entertainment thing to him." She settled on, sitting me down at a table with a few of the other ladies. "Come on, honey. You're no good to anyone dead."

I huffed at the thought, remembering back to the walkers that surrounded the fortress. "Not true—I'm pretty sure I'd be a useful doorstop. Or I'd help the others guard the grounds. It'd be real freaky for an outsider to watch a kid chomping away out there."

"You shouldn't say stuff like that." Frankie said immediately, looking stern. "You don't want the wrong person to hear you. Now eat something."

She pushed a plate towards me as two workers came in just then with a few trays of food. There was an assortment of fruit, some cheeses, and a few loaves of bread. The ladies sat at the table and passed it all around, pouring either water or wine to drink. One offered the basket of bread for me, but I didn't take it.

"Eat, honey." Frankie insisted. "You need your strength. I know you're angry but you can still be angry and take care of yourself. No point in starving to death."

I hated her words, mostly because of the truth that was in them. Despite that, I was thankful she was lecturing me and not Negan or one of his other monsters. I wouldn't have obeyed otherwise nor seen the sense in the words; I would have only wanted to be angry.

Sighing in surrender, I took some of the bread offered to me and made a little sandwich out of some cheese. It would have been nice to have some meat with it, but maybe they saved meat for dinner here. It wasn't that easy to come by for others, after all. It was easier for me since I was a hunter, so I had it a bit more frequently than most.

While I sat there, the women surrounding me filled the silence with some uninteresting gossip. I caught sight of the one from the first dinner-Sherry, and our eyes met for the briefest of moments before I snapped quickly away, feeling disgusted again. God, these ladies were pathetic. Was this how Negan expected me to spend my days; holed up with these chattering biddies?

Oh, what fresh hell was this?

I tried to avoid eye contact with her, pointing my gaze towards the window and resting my face in my hand while it propped on the table. It didn't seem any use, though. She appeared highly interested now and neared me as I finished off the last of my bread.

"You're Judy, right?"

"No. It's Ms. Grimes." I corrected firmly while still refusing to look at her. "Only friends get to call me Judy."

The coldness took her aback and she struggled to find her words for a moment. "So… are you really the cure?" With that statement, there was an audible hush that befell the room as the attention turned immediately on me. My face lit up with a blush at so much attention and I continued to keep my gaze from looking back at any of them.

"Who says that?"

"Everyone says that." Another wife said.

"Then maybe everyone just needs to wait and find out." I suggested.

They seemed to get the message that I wasn't looking for conversation right then, and certainly not from them so they wisely decided to back off, returning once again to their usual chitchat.

There was little else to do after lunch and I didn't really want to wander around this place alone (or really, I wasn't sure if I was even allowed to), so I stayed in the room for a few hours, passing the time by brooding in a corner to observe and watch the behavior of the wives and occasionally take mental notes on them.

I stayed in my spot until Frankie called my attention back to her.

"Judith-,"

"Ms. Grimes!" I corrected heatedly, refusing to let even her address me so informally.

Frankie sighed, looking annoyed. "Ms. Grimes, you have to come with me now."

"Why?" I demanded, before moving.

"Negan said he wanted you clean when he sees you for dinner in an hour. So, I'm taking you to the bath and shower." She pointed down a set of hallways. "Down there's the bathroom. You can wash up with the shower or the tub, just be finished in an hour. There's some clothes laid out for you as well."

At the mention, I shied away from the door. I liked the clothes I had on right now. All that I truly owned in the world was what I had worn with me here; he wasn't going to take those, too.

"Why can't I just wear the clothes I have on right now?"

"Because you need fresh ones. So, I'd hurry if I were you. If you haven't noticed by now, Negan doesn't like being disobeyed, nor waiting. Get to it."

It was disgusting how ready they were all willing to please him.

Even so, there were no other options I had, not unless I wanted Daryl to suffer, so I quietly filed into the bathroom. Feeling defeated, I studied it emotionlessly. It was nicer than the bathrooms we had back home. There were fluffy white towels hung out on racks, an assortment of bath salts, soaps, shampoos and conditioners in fancy bottles, old magazines in a basket, and even toilet paper.

Though we'd found plenty during our last run into Washington, it wasn't common among other communities. Normally we all used individual sanitary rags stocked inside little drawers that were marked for their designated users near the can. Everyone was in charge of cleaning and maintaining their own and if you used someone else's, it was **NOT** cool!

The shower was separate from the bathtub, which was pretty huge. For someone my size, it seemed fairly possible to be able to swim a few laps in it. It probably took forever to fill though, and I didn't feel like waiting for the water to rise all that much. For some reason, the thought of being so exposed in this place, set me on edge. If I could get this over and done with as soon as possible that was preferable.

I found the clothes laid out for me on the counter. There was a white short sleeved button-up shirt and a denim pinafore dress that looked like it reached down to about the same length as my shorts. It wasn't as bad as I was expecting and it'd do in the end. There was even some clean socks and underwear folded discretely between the shirt and dress. I guess they'd let me keep my boots though, since I didn't see any other shoes laid out for me.

I made it fast, hopping in the shower and scrubbing myself down quickly before hopping out again, quick as a bunny.

It all fit well enough, but the dress felt odd and unnatural. I didn't wear dresses very often and I paused a moment to wonder if I had ever worn a dress in front of Negan.

No… only my signature shorts, t-shirt, and boots. Other than that gingerbread costume for the Christmas play (which couldn't really be counted as a dress anyways), there had been no time I had ever worn a dress in his presence.

It wasn't because I was resistant towards dresses, they were just impractical. How am I supposed to work when tripping over a hem all day?

Thinking of that now, I wondered if this had been done on purpose then.

At least it wasn't ridiculously girly. I don't think I'd have been able to stomach wearing it otherwise. Although, if it was a choice between that and going naked, I would take the dress, I wasn't that stupid.

When I came out again, walking down the hall, I heard someone call my name from one of the aligning rooms. I poked my head in to find Frankie inside, apparently waiting for me. Had she been made my designated caretaker, then? It still felt too early to really form an opinion about her, but I was more than sure I despised her. The way she had spoken about her own people eating shit, still grinded on my nerves and my judgment of her was steadily decreasing more and more.

She might have seemed nice, even acted friendly and sweet now, but so did psychopaths, until they weren't anymore.

"You weren't in there for very long." Frankie said, checking the clock. It looked like I'd taken a total of six minutes in there. "Did you clean thoroughly?"

"As thoroughly as I always do." I was quite used to taking fast showers. The hot water back home never seemed to last all that long.

"Come here. Let's do something about your hair."

My said hair hung down around my face in dripping ringlets of tangles while dampening my clothes along my back and shoulders. Around her, I saw a collection of hair accessories, a hair brush, a comb, straightener, curler, and blow dryer. The sight of it all made me cringe away. Looks like she wanted to style it for me, which sounded like a whole lot of unnecessary hassle.

"I can do it." I said, reaching for the comb she had on her side.

"I'll dry it for you."

"It's fine. It'll dry on its own."

"Come on now. If I don't do this right I'll never hear the end of it."

"I don't' see why you bother. It's not like I'm having dinner with the Queen of England here. He's seen me covered in mud, blood, and filth of all kinds before. I doubt any dress or hairstyle is going to change his opinion about me a whole freaking lot."

"Don't be like that. Just make this easy for us both and we can get done with it faster."

"No!" I snapped furiously, making her jump by my force. "That's enough! I'm not going to get perttied up for the likes of him. I'm not going to change myself! Just forget it!" And with that, I took one of the ponytail holders and tied my dripping hair in its signature sidetail. Frankie looked displeased but seemed to understand I wouldn't be moved on this no matter her argument, and so wisely let it be.

It was a long while before Negan came back. Getting done with my shower early had left me with a lot of time doing nothing but watching the wives like before. I sat slouching low in a chair, glowering with my arms folded defensively across my chest. Eventually, though, I got tired of that and just decided to slump right where I was. I couldn't ever remember being so bored outside of the school room. This was the _worst_.

Was this what I'd be reduced to every day from now on? I didn't think I'd be able to live like this. But if it was a choice between this and dinner with my warden, I'd happily die of boredom.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: There was much more to this chapter but it got to be so long that I had to put it into two parts. After next chapter this story might go on a bit of hiatus while I figure out the next part of this story. We'll be going deeper into the Sanctuary system here so things might get a little darker. Till then, I may post some art or a few more side stories either on my Tumblr or Deviantart account.**

 **It took me a while to decide which wife I wanted to give Judith the tour. I thought about using Sherry, but I kinda feel like she gets enough attention in the comic and the show and Negan does have other wives.**

 **Judith's being kind of a brat in this chapter, but with all things considering, I think she's earned it. Again, she's looking in that same black and white mindset once again and is less than understanding towards any of the wives' explanations for ever deciding to marry Negan. If they caught her on a better day I'm sure she would be much more sympathetic for their situations, but it's really hard to sympathize with people who are meant to be your enemies.**


	45. A Little Pain

**Chapter 45  
A Little Pain  
**Eventually Negan showed up, strutting inside with that walk that was uncouthly full of himself and appeared somehow very off balanced in my opinion. Why on earth did he walk like that? He looked completely inept, not smart, not cocky—he looked like he was drunk. It was embarrassing to be seen with him in general, but even more so when he was walking like _that_.

He greeted his wives before coming towards me and it took all of my self-restraint not to growl.

"Hello Judy."

My teeth scraped together, grinding and drowning out his words while I rose to my feet. I paused only while he studied me.

"What?"

He frowned, glancing briefly at Frankie behind me. "There's hardly any change. And why is her hair wet?"

 _Because there was a sudden downpour from the rain cloud over me._

That's what I wanted to say at least. Only I didn't say that, knowing if I let myself, that comeback would not result well for me.

"She wasn't that eager to have it styled. And even if she was there isn't a whole lot I can do with her hair." Frankie explained. "It's just too short to really shape."

"Well that's another thing that'll need to work on then. At least she's clean. I was sick of seeing her in those ratty clothes."

My teeth clenched with this conversation and I glared furiously. The way they spoke in front of me was as if I was no longer in the room. I think I finally had an opinion on this woman; I hated them both.

Negan's next words were directed to me. "Well, I hope you're hungry, kiddo."

"I'm not."

I was.

He ignored my tone. "I'm sure once you smell what's been cooking you'll find your appetite. I requested a special dinner tonight."

 _Another_ special dinner? I was appalled. There were people starving and he was eating like this every day? It put a whole new meaning on the words greedy asshole.

Was I going to have to have dinner with him every night? I didn't think I'd be able to endure that and I definitely wouldn't be able to keep my mouth shut during it. Once in a while—a long while—maybe. If it was only once in a while, then I guess I could stomach that crap. It was just a little pain I had to get over with. Just a little pain.

I followed him back to the same room as the first dinner, my fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly the whole way. In a desperate move, I tried taking slow steady breaths—an act meant to calm me down, though apparently unsuccessfully. It wasn't missed by Negan.

"Calm down, kid." Negan said as we took our seats. "If you remember your manners through this meal then there's nothing you need to worry about. I'm not planning on mutilating anyone today. So, relax."

 _He's lying_ , I decided. I refused to look at him and chose to glare at the table, pursing my lips tightly.

The food came in at that moment and I tried to maintain my breathing through my mouth with little success once again. It all smelled uncomfortably heavenly. The sight alone made my mouth wash with saliva.

It looked like beautiful roasted pork ribs marinated in a barbeque sauce, fresh green beans fried up with walnuts and pepper, cheesy twice baked potatoes, and buttery rolls.

My eyes went large at the sight of it all, but my resolve quickly snapped back. It was still too late to amend my hungry expression and Negan caught sight of it before I could conceal it.

"Are you hungry now?"

I tried not to look at the food and continued my tactic of breathing through my mouth. In desperation, I attempted a different sort of trick. It was a technique I learned during our more wanting times back home, when there was the bare minimum of food to go around for everyone.

At those times when I was desperate for more, I'd imagine the most disgusting things fathomable and turn my appetite against me. It was something Rosita had suggested.

In that moment, I pictured the foulest things my mind could invent: The smell of sour milk, maggots wiggling under the flesh of a walker, a booger taco, ants crawling over a dead bird, Dad and Carl after eating onions.

There were onions all around the roast… and sautéed garlic and mushrooms, too.

I could feel my stomach clawing in my body and inwardly cursed myself for not thinking to fill up during lunch. _Crap_ —why hadn't I done that? Yeah, I had been pissed off, but I could bare the wives' company over Negan's much easier and his satisfied smirk at seeing me openly craving for something made this situation ten times worse.

"Would you like some roast, Judy?"

I didn't answer him and took a roll, deliberately nibbling it and resisting the urge to cram it in without a second thought.

Negan looked displeased with my reaction. "So, the silent treatment and a hunger strike? Is that your idea of trying to get back at me?"

"No." I answered. "I'm just not very hungry."

"That seems to be very typical with you."

"I'm not used to having very much. You should know! You take most of it, and some of us need to save some for others."

"Well no one you need to save this for here. So, fill your plate and eat up. You need your strength."

"Gee, I didn't realize not having an appetite was against the rules. And that lady told me all about the rules today."

"She did, did she? Well then you understand your position here."

"Yeah, she said I had certain privileges that'd let me throw my weight around and lord over others if I felt like, but I have standards. Just because I hate all of you doesn't mean I'm going to act like you."

He glared, feeling the sting of my insult, but it didn't look like he had a decent enough retort for that.

I continued to nibble on my bread at a deliberate pace. I had heard once that eating slowly could sometimes trick your body to think it's fuller than it really is.

Without warning, Negan grabbed my empty plate, taking me entirely by surprise. Despite my objection, Negan took it upon himself to pile it up, giving me a bit of everything. After there was a daunting amount of food on it, he replaced it in front of me and leaned back.

"I know you want to get this over with, so here's the deal," He threatened. "You're going to sit there and the longer you wait to clean your plate the longer you have to stay here with me and talk. And you will clean it if we have to sit here all fucking—,"

Before he had even finished I dove for it, intent on devouring it all and getting this dinner over with before I had to be there a moment longer than necessary. I made it fast, hardly tasting the food and doing my best to keep it down no matter what.

That was much easier said than done, though. Negan had purposefully piled it to capacity, probably knowing perfectly well that there was no way I could finish so much, but I still shoved it in anyways. It looked like starving myself for the day seemed to work in my favor for once.

It was all uncomfortably rich, and the quality of it all did not sit well with my much humbler pallet. I braced myself though, refusing to throw up a perfectly good meal and sure as hell not in front of this maniac—again.

Negan fixed me with a disapproving look. "Jesus, slow down. Give yourself some time to taste it. A lot of work went through making this meal, the least you can do is enjoy it."

I didn't respond to those words, besides scooting my plate forward and announcing through a full mouth, "Oo'm done. Oo'm goin'."

"No, you're not."

I swallowed what was in my mouth hastily. "You said—,"

"You're only done with the first course. You still have dessert."

"What? No, no, no, you said clean my plate. Well it's clean now and— _oh no_ … I feel woozy." I hunched in my chair, holding my stomach where it was acting up and feeling an enormous wash of nausea hit me from out of nowhere. The food I had scarfed was obviously not sitting well with me one bit.

 _No! No freaking way am I going to hurl in front of him… again_! I thought stubbornly, bowing my head on the table in distress and holding my mouth. Well if anything dared come up again I was just going to swallow it back down!

 _Oh god_ … I regretted so much. But it would pass. It was just a little discomfort after all. Just a little pain.

"See? That's what you get!" Negan lectured, seeing my reaction. "For that you can just sit there till _I'm_ done, now."

"Stop altering our deals! And you'll take forever on purpose." I moaned, my face still pressed to the wood.

"I'll take my regular amount of time."

"I just want to get this over with, already. Let's be real, you don't want me here anymore than _I_ want me here."

"I didn't have you clean up and wear something relatively decent just so you could rush off in barely three minutes."

My head rolled over the table to glance up at him, "You're the one that offered that deal. Excuse me if I planned to take advantage of it. Are you trying to tell me you wouldn't have done the same?"

"No."

"Liar."

With that word, he reached for his beverage and took a slow pondering sip before saying, "I don't lie, Judy. _You_ do."

I retracted from that statement, insulted as well as stung. And yet as much as I wished I could deny it, I could do no such thing, because his words were actually true. I _did_ lie. _I_ was a liar. And Negan, whom I hated more than anyone in this entire world, yet for all his faults—he actually did not lie. There was no time I could recall where the man had blatantly lied to my face. Even while I frantically searched for an occasion in which he could have, none came to mind.

"Ah… and I'll bet right now you're frantically trying to come up with a time where I've blatantly lied to you, now." He deduced, carving off a piece of rib. My stomach grew even more distressed by how unsettling it was to hear him read my mind. "But unfortunately, you can't think of any."

"So, you haven't lied to me." I scoffed. "That doesn't mean you haven't to other people to get what you want, or to do what you want, or to make _others_ do what you want!"

"Let's not pull out our track records, right now. Otherwise, I'll need to remind you that you pretty much lied to everyone you ever knew for years. You had some secret magical power that could have helped them much more and had you decided to trust them instead of skulking in the shadows like a sneaky, little rat, you could have ultimately saved countless of innocent lives and possibly ended all this madness by now."

Those words hit me worse than the ones before and my head snapped up angrily.

"I—I didn't know. If I knew I would have come forward so much sooner. I only thought that maybe they—the walkers—just didn't like me is all."

"Seriously?"

"Yes seriously! And I didn't come forward sooner because I knew you would find out about it one way or another and I'd be dragged here against my will and I'd never see my family again because, _god forbid_ , someone has something that you don't have and you can't restrain the damn narcissist in you for five minutes to let me so much as say a proper goodbye to my parents or to pack some freaking underwear, at the very least!"

The look on Negan's face looked restrained, angry, and irritated all at the same time, like he was trying very hard to be patient with me. "I know this is an adjustment—"

"No, this isn't an adjustment! This is kidnapping and incarceration! You say you're not some shady child snatcher, but you are! You snatched me up from my home and my people and—"

"ENOUGH!" His fist slammed the table with an oddly loud BANG, silencing me mid-rant. My mouth closed and I watched his face contort with controlled anger. "As I was saying, I know this is an adjustment, but you'll start over like we've all had to do at one point or another. You'll adapt and in time you are going to look at this place as home and I promise you'll be given a much better life here."

"I won't!" I nearly shouted, slamming the table myself now in stubborn resolve and open disgust at the idea. "I'll never be at home here! This isn't a better life—this is a prison, for everyone who lives here!"

"You're angry right now. Believe it or not I can understand that," He said, then his face became frighteningly dark. "But let's get something straight right now; those people you used to live with are no longer your concern. They are no longer your family and no longer your responsibility. Your home is here now. Rick is no longer your father and—"

"YES, HE IS!" I screamed audibly, surprising Negan to silence and cutting off his building threat instantly. "HE WILL ALWAYS BE MY FATHER! I don't care what you say! I don't care what ANYONE says or does! Don't you get it?! YOU DISGUST ME! ALL OF YOU! None of you are ever going to be my people and I am never EVER going to be one of you! I'd rather be an orphan than be one of you! I'D RATHER _**DIE**_ THAN BE ONE OF YOU!"

A terrifying hush fell between us as the statement hung in the air.

It didn't take a genius to tell that what I had said was way, _way_ out of line. The moment it was out and I took a moment to gage the expression on the man's face, I instantly wanted to shove the words back in my mouth. The vein on Negan's neck looked prepared to pop and when he rose up from his chair like a growing tower of wrath, everything in me screamed to flee. Despite my instincts, though, I remained rooted to the floor, paralyzed right in my spot. I saw the fire in his eyes blaze bright and his hand had locked over my arm before I could escape.

"You'd rather die, huh? Well… I'll bet I can think of a way to make you change your mind about that." He dragged me towards the door and marched me out, pulling me along the halls till we reached a secluded and much less inviting part of the Sanctuary (not that the Sanctuary was inviting to begin with).

We ran into the Savior I recognized as Dwight and Negan promptly ordered him to follow. "You got your keys for Mr. Daryl's cage on you handy?"

My heart leapt in my throat at the mention. "Don't you hurt my uncle, you SICK EVIL MONSTER! Don't you dare!" I shouted at him, openly fighting and hitting at his hand to try and work out of his grip on me.

Dwight said nothing but turned and followed his boss till we came to a rusted metal door. The Savior unlocked it without a word and I was dragged inside to find Daryl sitting on the floor, still wearing the dirty sweat clothes as before. His eyes switched back and forth from me to Negan and instantly on guard at the sight of this new development. There was a clear expression of fear that crossed his face, before it seemed to snap to one of acceptance.

Whatever fate Negan had in store for Daryl, he was openly prepared for it. He had suffered so much by his hand that perhaps now he suspected he would finally, finally be released from this hell.

Negan threw me to the ground, where I hit hard on my side and crumbled in a heap in the corner furthest from my uncle.

"Well Daryl-boy, we've got a big problem on our hands." He announced in a way that seemed more as a boast than a dilemma. "Judy, doesn't want to behave herself around here. I've given her every chance to do so and I've treated her as nothing short than a guest of fucking honor, but it looks like she doesn't want to fall in line. Now I know this was going to take some time to get used to. I wanted to give her that, but I don't think she's planning to make it very easy on herself, so I need your help."

Across the tight room, my eyes met with Daryl's and I saw us both fearfully gulp at the same time.

Negan went on. "I have this nasty suspicion that she's just going to keep being difficult and keep pushing at me, so it leads me to believe that I'm going to need to straighten her out. Now you've been good lately, and it's awfully unfair to punish someone for something a little brat has done, but I don't really see what else I can do. You remember what it was like during your first few weeks here. You were a fucking lunatic. Always fighting, always trying to escape. It was annoying. But then we had that little incident, you remember, right?"

I glanced over at Daryl's face, wondering what Negan meant by that. With the mention of said "little incident" Daryl's face betrayed complete panic, reminded just then of some terrifying unseen memory.

"I don't want to have to do that to Judy, but I don't think she's going to get the message as easily otherwise. Which means I may have to resort to something a bit more extreme. I considered throwing her to my men and let them see what they could do about it. I know a few of them would probably be pretty into it. What do you say? Would she get the message then, do you think?"

Daryl's head seemed to shake back and forth with those suggestions.

"I'm seeing a no, but I don't know what else to do really. I think I'm at my whit's end. If you have a suggestion… Oh wait, I know!" Negan strolled over to Daryl and yanked him up to his feet, dragging him out of the cell.

"DON'T YOU HURT HIM! Don't you dare fucking do it!" I shouted at him while all three of the men pulled out of the room, slamming the door and locking me inside where there was nothing but complete darkness. I slammed on the door frantically, shouting and yelling till my voice was almost hoarse. Frightened furious tears escaped me as my mind leapt to all the terrifying things Negan was doing to Daryl and I scrambled for a threat to make them stop. "I'll—I'll curse you! I'll do it! Do you hear me? I'll curse you into unimaginable pain till you shrivel up and die. Damn my soul otherwise, you hear me!"

I banged on it for a while longer, trying to force it opened unsuccessfully. After a few minutes, the door swung loudly again and I backed up to find all three men standing there, Daryl in front of Negan and Dwight taking up the back.

When I took in Daryl's state I was relieved to find he was unharmed. His face though, did not hold that same ease. In fact, it looked as though he were in pain some other way. There was something dark behind his expression, something broken and defeated.

Negan shoved him in the shoulder expectantly, his voice deep and cold. "Well… go on."

Before I had time to respond, a rock-solid force slammed into me, knocking me immediately off my feet. My body dropped hard. My breath whooshed out of my chest and as much as I tried, it wouldn't come back. It felt like I was being squeezed tight, but there was nothing constricting me. I coughed and opened my eyes to see a pair of feet stepping back towards me. A fist grabbed the collar of my shirt and hauled me up. Fire lit my cheek and I spotted Daryl's free hand backhand me ruthlessly before whipping back to strike the other side.

My eyes burned with tears and I tasted blood. His fist slammed once more into my side and I choked, trying to force air back into me. I lost count of the times his fist made contact with my body. Sometime during it all, the nausea I had been feeling before resurfaced and the dinner I'd inhaled came back up, making an awful mess on the floor. He only stopped long enough for me to finish hacking and coughing before his hands were on me again. I heard whimpers escape me but I didn't say a word. I didn't ask him to stop or beg. Even while he did it, I had figured out why. Daryl did this now only to keep anything worse from being done. I was sure of it. Yet it was hard to imagine worse in that moment.

Once or twice I caught sight of his face and the sheer agony on it. I could practically hear his thoughts in the franticness behind that gaze.

 _Tell me to stop! I want to stop! Please tell me to stop!_

I wasn't sure if it was me who he wanted to say those words or Negan. Maybe it was both.

I felt an iron grip grab my wrist at that moment and then a sharp turn, a pop, and pain was all I could feel anymore. I could hear myself screaming louder than I had ever screamed in my life.

Had there been words coming out of my mouth over the screams? I couldn't tell. I just wanted it all to stop.

Then it finally did.

I shivered and curled into a ball, protecting my vital organs as I lied there on the ground with my useless arm. I wasn't sure if Negan had given the word or if Daryl just couldn't stand to raise his hand again. My mind could only concentrate on the pain wracking my body.

Words were thrown around me, but I couldn't respond to them. Static filled my ears over the voices and paralyzed me where I was. I knew I was in shock but there was nothing that could be done to bring myself out of it. I couldn't make myself unfurl from the little ball I'd wrapped in.

 _It's safe in the ball, just stay in the ball._ I thought.

I saw a boot enter my vision and I cringed away, tightening up and trying to make myself smaller as I trembled in shock and trauma.

"Ah fuck, I was sure she would ask you to stop much sooner. Did you have to break her arm like this? Jesus, Daryl."

Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Negan tell the other two men to leave for a moment while he had a word alone with me.

Looking up at those piercing eyes I suddenly forgot how to breathe and when I finally remembered I didn't dare try. My heart pounded in my ears and there were no thoughts in my head but the ones he put there. I snapped my gaze away from him suddenly. I didn't want to look at him or that smile, I didn't want it to be the last thing I saw. Instead, I focused on a smear of blood splatter on the floor. I focused on the shape and color of it, seeing the outline of something in the ominous red.

A beetle, I decided. It looked just like a round little beetle.

"Let's get you to the infirmary."

With those words and when I saw his arms reach towards me I flinched away instinctively.

"N-no! Don't touch me! Stay away from me!"

In response to my terrified aversion of him he pushed past my retraction and gripped my face in his hands. His momentary gentle tone dropped entirely and I was petrified. I froze instantly, cautious not to say anything or do anything this monster didn't agree with.

"Don't you ever fucking try and escape from me." He growled, and bared down on me more like some primal monster than a man. "Now try and gather every bit of brain power you have in that head of yours and listen to me, before I do something else so fucking distasteful."

I swallowed and listened to him, conscious that these could be the most important words I ever heard in my life.

"I don't like seeing you this way and I didn't like making Daryl do that." Negan said lowly. I tried to turn my gaze to focus on the beetle blood drop while he continued, but he squeezed hard and brought me back to focus on his dark eyes. "And I fucking KNOW he sure doesn't like it, either. I think I might just have broken him all over again with that display. You on the other hand… who can say for sure? You push me so fucking far, sometimes I wonder if you're just a glutton for pain. So, let's try this again."

His hand curled harder around my chin, turning it up more so that I was staring right into his leering face. At the sight of it, my terror spiked, building larger and larger with every word he said.

"Now, I just convinced Daryl (your so-called uncle) to beat you fucking senseless. I only told him to do it long enough till it took you to wise up and tell him to stop, but since you didn't, he was pushed to take it that far. But when I heard that pop, that was when I realized I had to step the fuck in, before you let him kill you. Just in case, you haven't figured it out by now, if I can make _him_ do that to _you_ I can make anyone do pretty much whatever I want. If you're still not convinced, then test me and I'll throw you to some men who are really fucked up. I wonder if they'll be anything left of you afterwards."

Without realizing it, I began to tremble at the thought and my breathing hitched. It was painfully terrifying to realize how powerless I was next to him. He saw it and maintained his look of disapproval as he continued.

"And if you couldn't tell, I didn't enjoy that. Not one fucking bit. It doesn't make me feel more of a man to beat a defenseless little girl and it sure as fuck wasn't something I wanted a family member to do to you. But I don't know how else to spell it out. I never wanted to hurt you, not for an instant. At first, I wanted to beat Daryl senseless, or I could have gone back to Alexandria and kill a few of those assholes to get the message across, but something tells me you would have held it against me much longer than anything done to you personally. Look me in the eye and tell me that wouldn't have been worse for you."

I swallowed, terrified by how well he seemed to read me. It was truly traumatizing what he'd done, but I would bare it, if it meant any others I cared about would be spared of such harm. My voice was wobbly when I spoke again. "Y-yes. That would have been worse."

Even when Negan had predicted it, my words were apparently not what he'd been hoping for once again. The words seemed to revolt him somehow. "I have never, in my entire life, seen a person who was so ready to be used by others, to either be put up on the front lines like some sacrificial goat or drained dry till there was nothing left for her to give. What the hell is wrong with you? You call it protect and serving your people, I call it being taken advantage of.

"You've got this unhealthy tendency to leave your own wellbeing for the very last concern and I think that's fucking disgusting. When I heard about how eager you were to be used by others, family or not, I couldn't even believe it. You're just a fucking kid and you've been brainwashed bad enough to believe that your life and wellbeing is somehow less than theirs. What sort of people would make you feel like that?"

"N—not brainwashed." I struggled to say through the pain and tears in my throat. "M-my ch-choice. I decided it…"

"Was it really your decision? Are you completely sure about that?"

"Yes." I said immediately. "Th-they never wanted me to, but I did it anyways. You c-can't manipulate me to think differently! They're my people and I love them and I'm prepared to do whatever it takes for them."

"Well then pay close attention to what I'm telling you." His voice lowered a whole octave before he continued. "This was a warning; a small demonstration. I let you carry that pain this time because I knew you wouldn't want that any other way, as much as it disgusted me to my very core that it was done to you in the first place. So, unlike you, I don't give a real shit about any of the other poor suckers you're willing to die for, which means killing one of them to put you back in line would be no skin off my back, but the next time you test me beyond my limits—the next time you say you'd rather die than be one of us, I'm taking Daryl aside and I'm going to skin the message right out of his hide and then I'll go down the line of people in Alexandria and make sure you don't ever forget your place around me. Do I make myself clear?"

With every word he said, my terror of him only built more and more, forcing trembles and tears alike straight out of me.

I couldn't find any ways to refuse him, so with shuddering breath, I nodded.

"Good. Now do not move a muscle and. Don't. Fucking. Kick. Me."

With those words, a shiver coursed through my body when Negan bowed down and picked me up.

I froze again. My body became rigid and for a few minutes I understood what it must have been like to be truly petrified. Never in my whole life had I known what it was like to be completely at someone else's mercy. I couldn't move or breathe or think past the arms that encircled me so much like a trap. I just held still, not wanting to antagonize the animal any further.

He carried me all the way to the infirmary and the entire way I stayed like that; too afraid to do a thing about it.

The doctor looked startled at the state I was in but seeing Negan carrying me, he did not ask what happened. Instead he distracted himself with mending me. It looked like my arm hadn't broken after all, only dislocated. He gave me a shot to relax the muscles and block the pain for when he popped it back in and I would need to wear a sling for a few days. From there, it was all downhill. It was patches and bandages after that. All the little pains in me, a split lip, bruises along my torso and face, blood in my mouth—the rest was just… a little pain.

* * *

 **Author's notes: I was really, really conflicted about posting this chapter, and wondered if there was any way I could omit Judith's beating, but it's pretty important in later chapters so I really couldn't find a way to cut it without screwing with a whole lot of other plot points. So, with a heavy heart, I kept it. I wrote that scene a long time ago and didn't really know if I was going to use it or not. But then some things happened and my mind somehow found a way to connect all these plot devices without actually knowing how I did it.**

 **That was a seriously intense scene and Negan's developed a whole new level of psycho-abuser. He's trying a method of brainwashing and manipulation here, both with Daryl and with Judith. I'm not sure if either really knows that's what he's doing but Judith's initial instinct is to fight him at every chance, so even if she doesn't know that's what's going on, she's not going to make this easy for anyone.**


	46. Well this is a Pickle

**Chapter 46  
Well this is a Pickle**

Carson wanted to keep me in the infirmary for observation but I didn't want to stay there. I wasn't safer in his supervision. I wasn't safer anywhere really. I just wanted to have walls around me and be alone. So, they left me in the bedroom for that.

At the first opportunity I curled up on the bed and tried to focus on staying calm.

I was alone at last. My limbs were killing me and the bruises were big and blotchy. I felt utterly terrified now. Negan had been sure to cut the fear deep. I guess I finally got it now. But I wasn't broken, not yet. The fire inside still burned, but as a flicker for the moment.

How was I supposed to fight against this mob that all hated me? There were no friends here on my side, I couldn't even count on Daryl anymore. He was too constricted under their thumb to confide in. Anything Negan wanted to do to me, they'd let him do. An unbearable weight of loneliness crippled me and I could do nothing but curl up inside the blankets of the bed and hide from the horrible, awful world within the false-safety of the cocoon.

But even inside that, I couldn't really escape. Everything was a reminder of where I was, straight down to the texture of the sheets to the sounds I heard outside the cell.

My chest grew tight, aching more now with homesickness instead of just the bruises. I wanted to be at the island with Vanessa singing me songs as I napped on the couch or in the flower meadow or the little bed upstairs. I wanted to be in the ruins of the pagan church with the statues of gods and deities to protect me from all the evils of the world.

I wanted to be back home in my cozy hammock with my spells and charms and idols and the other bits of comfort I had filled my bedroom with. I wanted to go find my parents' bedroom and snuggle up with Dad and Michonne wedged on both sides of me to hold me close and tell me that everything was okay and no one was going to hurt me or our people again.

I just…

I wanted my dad. If I could have anything in the world right now, I'd ask for my dad.

Singing interrupted my thoughts just then and I braved to peak out of my safe cocoon to see a blond-haired angel sitting in a corner with a guitar over her lap.

"Beth?"

She was a special sort of spirit. She only came when I felt particularly distressed.

I couldn't go up and embrace her even if I craved the touch of someone kind and trustworthy. I would just sink through her. So, I stayed where I was, curled on the bed as I listened to her song lull me to sleep.

 _I'm just and angel that's fallen from grace  
In a weak moment I doubted of my faith  
I danced with the Devil and I'm so ashamed  
He never mentioned they I'd have to pay_

 _Ooh Oooh_

 _Beautiful fiction made me believe  
Love and affection from him would come cheap  
But I'm in the red now and I'm on the run  
I wanna go home I don't know what I've done_

 _Heaven help us  
Be my compass  
Out of darkness  
Because I'm a fallen angel  
Finding my way back home_

 _I'm just and angel that's fatally lost  
I tried to be something I know that I'm not  
I danced with the devil and I'm so ashamed  
Too far down a road to go back where I came_

 _Heaven help us  
Be my compass  
Out of darkness  
Because I'm a fallen angel  
Finding my way back home_

 _I'm just an angel that's fallen from grace  
In a weak moment I doubted my faith  
I danced with the devil and I'm so ashamed  
He never told me that I'd have to pay_

* * *

The next day, the doctor did a follow up on me, changing a few of the bandages and doing another long tedious chuck up before I was finally, finally discharged. I was left alone in the bedroom for the remainder of the day and spent a better part of it curled in the same corner as before.

Once or twice I tried to take my mind off of things by reading the books from the shelves, but I always ended up tossing them away in disinterest, too consumed in my own problems to be burdened with nonexistent characters and worlds that wouldn't help my situation in the least. I just kept in my corner, staring off into space dazedly. I would have sat by and stared out the window if I could, but the only one in my room was a long horizontal band on the opposite wall and was too high and close to the ceiling to gaze out of. It felt weird to have a room that seem so bright and yet the window was entirely out of my reach.

I didn't want to use the things in here all that much. It felt worse to use them than to ignore them. I hadn't touched the TV or any of the movies and the clothes were no good either.

A day after being beaten up, Frankie had come to check on me, probably to make sure I was still alive since I hadn't come out for two days. At first, I didn't respond, keeping my back to her while I lied out on the bed when she peaked inside.

"Judith… are you awake?"

Silence greeted her and I curled up tighter from my place on the comforter.

"I just wanted to see if maybe you'd like some lunch?"

Again, only silence.

"I'll um… bring you some food, later… if you think you can… eat."

She made to leave, when something occurred to me just then. I sat up on the bed and turned before the door had shut entirely.

"Wait!"

She dived back inside, eager and curious to know what I wanted.

"What? Did you need something?"

"M—my clothes." I told her. "After I took that shower I left them in the bathroom. Can I have them back? _Please_?" I added the last part, hoping it would appeal to her in case she was holding a grudge by the way I had treated her that first day.

The request was not what she'd been expecting. Her face turned down with disappointment as she gazed back at me reproachfully. "I—I'm sorry. But they were pretty old and we didn't think you'd need them anymore and well… we threw them away you see, and—,"

I didn't hear anymore. With those words, I turned from her and burrowed back into the pillow on the bed, my back once again towards her.

"I—I didn't think… I'm sorry."

Of course, she didn't think! No one here thought about things like that. They were just ratty clothes to them; a faded pink Wonder Woman T-shirt and a pair of torn khaki shorts. They weren't pretty or new—they were almost threadbare in fact. But they were all I had of home, the only things that were mine entirely, and they just threw them out like they meant nothing!

There was plenty to wear in the bedroom wardrobe, both casual and formal clothing as far as I saw, but in all honesty, I hadn't rooted too much through it, only enough to find some pajamas after I'd thrown aside the cursed blue dress that was speckled with dirt and blood from my beating. It lay in a corner now, kept company with the cloak I wasn't able to escape from.

Everything inside this space was a trap. The clothes that wrapped around me were claws, carefully attempting to sculp me into some mockery of something I could never be, smothering the person I already was, and covering me with a layer of what someone else chose.

But it was either wear them or be naked and I couldn't be naked—being naked was a hundred times worse. So, I picked out a set of clothes that were as near to my old style as possible and tried to adjust to the feeling of them.

* * *

Meals were brought to my room regularly, but once again my appetite was nowhere to be found and the most I managed were only a few bites every day.

When night fell, I sank into the bed to try and find sleep, but it was hard for a lot of different reasons. One: I kept running through the events of the past traumatizing few days and worrying about what was going to happen in the near future and so on. Two: those thoughts kept flaring up emotions of anger and anxiety and that made it difficult for my brain to shut down. And three: no matter what I did or what position I rolled in on the bed, I couldn't seem to find a comfortable spot. And worse, I kept seeing the monsters coming through the door. Kept seeing them and feeling their hands and fists on me.

It took hours, but eventually I realized it was the mattress that was making this difficult. It was too freaking soft! It was like sinking into a marshmallow.

Once I rearranged some bedding on the floor, shielded from sight of the door behind the tall frame, and settled in, I found myself drifting off pretty easily after that.

The next morning, Frankie came in to wake me and was startled to see me curled up in a heap in that odd place.

"Did you fall off the bed?"

To that, I only answered with a simple, "The mattress is too soft." And got up to get dressed.

A few days after the incident, Negan and his men set off to return to Alexandria and I wondered in the back of my mind if they were going to return alive at all. Dad would probably be completely beside himself with fury and worry and if Negan provoked him, he was going to kick his ass. If there was one thing I held no doubt for was the love my father carried for his family. I knew perfectly well that he would do anything for us, just like I would.

I didn't eat or talk for most of the day, worried about Negan's return, _if_ he was going to return. I tried not to be too hopeful for the suggestiveness, but my anticipation and optimism for his failed return only grew more and more throughout the day.

Sometime while sitting in the same boring room with the wives, a feeling like someone walking over my grave, fell over me. There was a horrible sensation in me that something deeply wrong had happened, all at once. I didn't have to perform spells or get a premonition to figure out that whatever it was had something to do with Negan's return to Alexandria. Anxiety overpowered me and I left to pace around in private.

I decided to wait on one of the fire escapes outside where I had a decent view of the convoy when it finally returned that day. Whatever was bothering me would be brought to light the moment Negan was back.

When the trucks finally returned I deflated to see him jump from the passenger side of one, whole and unharmed. He wore a displeased expression though and it was only when I saw the shuddering, transparent mass standing in the middle of the courtyard that I was able to figure out why it'd felt like a shadow was over me all day.

Olivia stood in the middle of it, wearing an expression as if lost and uncertain about what she was doing. Maybe she sensed my presence because her face turned up just then and met my gaze. The moment my eyes locked with hers, it was like a breeze had come to blow her image swiftly away, making her spirit vanish completely in thin air as she passed on to the next life.

I stepped away from the sight, horror and appall taking over everything as I fled back inside.

That monster! That vicious evil monster! Olivia was innocent—she wasn't a fighter! Whatever had happened in Alexandria, whatever fight that had taken place hadn't been her fault. Her death had merely been an example to the ones that tried to oppose him to get them back in line.

The trip back to my room caused me to cross paths with someone I hadn't noticed being escorted from the trucks, at first.

"Eugene?"

I saw the side of his face as he was being escorted by one of the female Saviors. There were tear-tracks down his face and he looked terrified.

What happened? I followed them down two sections of the Sanctuary, staying out of sight while I observed this development. She wasn't taking him to the cellblock, least not the ones where Daryl was. Instead, the woman deposited him in a furnished apartment room, stocked with a small kitchenette and an entertainment system.

Without a word, she unbound his cuffed hands and let him view the apartment. He quickly came to realize that whatever fate he had been expecting was not in store for him and he wiped the tears immediately off his face. What was even worse was that he was… cooperating.

There was a strange ringing in my ears while I studied this scene. He moved around the apartment considerably, taking it in with a strange sort of fascination.

I stayed were I was, atop the stairs, listening as the woman offered to get him something to eat and he quickly calmed to find he wouldn't be getting punished, not like how Daryl had been punished, not like how… _I_ was punished.

A raw blinding rage swept me with that.

So, this was what it was! It didn't matter what had happened back home. Olivia was dead and he was being rewarded. That fucking, cowardly, bastard…

I watched on, following them as the Savior gave him the same tour I had been granted my first day here. I watched as she explained the system, moving towards a table lined with canned goods and promptly shoved a jar of pickles into his arms, indicating that he had been given the same benefits I had, if I even cared to exploit them. The more I watched, the more furious I got. I was so fucking pissed. He had sold us out… he let Olivia be killed… for _pickles_ …

I didn't know what pulled me forward, but an overpowering sensation of vengeance took hold just then and I approached him from the side.

My fist whipped out and I all but punched the jar out of his arms. The whole thing smashed to the concrete, juice and pickles and glass going everywhere. A cry of surprise escaped him and he stepped back in shock.

"You useless, self-absorbed, COWARD!" I screamed. The market had gone suddenly silent as everyone turned towards the commotion. I knew I was making a scene but I didn't care. I wanted them all to see what sort of man they had let into their ranks. At the drop of a hat he would do the exact same to any one of them. Loyalty didn't mean shit to him! I was doing them a favor by letting them know. "This is your fault! You got Olivia killed! What the fuck did you screw up this time?! You're the reason she's dead—I KNOW IT IS!"

When his brain caught up with what had happened and he had been given time to process who had slapped the jar from him, his eyes went wide with shock, as if he couldn't believe the state I was in.

There were still bruises on my face, my arm was still in the sling, and the rest of me was covered in bandages, but he didn't care—it was just an act! From his first encounter with anyone at the beginning of this whole mess he had used pity and lies to lure people in all the time. He was just like Negan—he was _worse_ than Negan! And he wouldn't lure me in that way!

"J—Judith? What happened to you?"

He had no right to be concerned over my wellbeing—no right to feel bad about anything! That fucking traitor!

I turned from him, growing more disgusted the longer I stood there. "FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED!" I yelled over my shoulder. "GO BLOW YOUR NEW BOSS YOU MULLET-WEARING ASSHOLE! I HOPE YOU FUCKING BURN!"

All eyes were on me as I left the market. I could feel my face burn with rage and humiliation, but despite that, my heart pounded with satisfaction amidst it all. It had felt good to throw that jar to the floor, to break something, to yell and scream at someone deserving. Since my beating, it had felt like all my emotions had been packed tight in a sealed container. There were too many to fit within me and if I didn't get them out soon, they would consume me until I exploded.

And that's just what had happened. I had exploded everywhere, for all to see.

Slowly, regret for my actions overpowered the brief satisfaction caused by it. For certain I was going to regret that scene, and the panic followed immediately when I got back to the room.

I grasped my head in my hands, dread overpowering all my senses as I replayed what had just occurred. "Oh shit! Oh shit!"

Negan would kill someone else! He would kill Daryl—or maim him in some way. I couldn't let that happen. Maybe… maybe if I did something. But what could I do?

 _Grovel_?

I didn't think I'd have the strength for that even if he killed everyone I loved.

 _Give him something_?

There was nothing I had.

 _Kill myself_?

The words made me pause. The idea made an insane sort of sense. If I did that… he couldn't kill Daryl or anyone else. I mean he _could_ , but what use would that be? I'd be dead and the threat would mean nothing.

What could I use in here?

I didn't have pills or poison and I wasn't allowed weapons, but there was a glass vase of artificial flowers.

Grabbing it almost madly, I threw it to the floor, instantly reminded of the pickle jar I had smashed. There weren't many big pieces, but there were some little ones. Maybe I could... swallow one?

The thought was scary. Certainly, that wouldn't be necessary. Even a small shard would do the trick to open up the veins in my wrist.

Just then there was a knock at my door.

My heart leapt into my throat. He was here! He already knew what happened! I had to do this now or never! If I could just get my hand to stop trembling…

"Judith… are you in there?" It was Frankie.

My hand paused momentarily at the sound of her soft-spoken voice. My own voice caught in my throat and I couldn't answer for some reason.

When she didn't get a response, her hand went to the doorknob. "I'm coming in."

In my haste to get away, I had forgotten to lock it. My hands fumbled for the pieces, trying to shove them under the bed before she stepped in. It wasn't fast enough.

"W-what?!" I said, snapping towards her in a panic.

She stopped dead, staring down at the mess on the floor and the shards that had bit into the skin of my hands and the tiny cut made on my wrist. It didn't seem to take very long for her to figure out what had been about to happen were she a few moments later.

"What… were you doing in here?"

"N-nothing!" I said, trembling more and more. "A v-vase just b-broke. I was… cleaning it up."

I must have looked pretty guilty though because she crossed the room just then and knelt down. "Let me help you."

I tried to push her hands away in refusal. "N-no! I have it. I'll get it myself!"

"Judith…"

"No! I don't want your help!" I said angrily, burned by that gentle tone. She was still an enemy and I wasn't going to forget that. I wasn't going to let her manipulate me!

"But—,"

"JUST LET ME DO THIS ALREADY!"

Her hands grabbed my shoulders and slammed me suddenly against the side of the bed, stunning me enough to jar me from my raving. I stared back at her, motionless for the first time.

She didn't say anything. Neither of us did. I was too shocked to move other than to press closer into the side of the bed, beginning to tremble as I calmed from my meltdown and that strange spell of shear madness.

I hadn't even noticed I had been crying until the tears fell onto my hand.

My gaze turned down to the shards on the floor, overcome by how close I had been to ending everything.

How had I been brought to this? Everything had fallen apart so completely in just a few days. I was trapped in a corner; enough to think that _this_ was my only way out.

My voice was a hush as I tried to explain to this woman why this was so important; why she had to let me do it. "H-he's going to kill him… if I don't… do it…"

Frankie seemed incredibly distraught by the conclusion I had come to.

"He won't."

"He will… you know he will."

We heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hall just then and another wife (I didn't know her name) stepped into the opened door.

"Frankie, are you in here? I just came in to tell you that…" She stopped the same way Frankie had done when she first saw the mess of glass on the floor. Her eyes swerved over to gage our positions next to the bed and the pile of glass that had been hastily attempted to conceal. "What's going on?"

"Can you go get a broom and the doctor? I can't leave her alone." The heavy tone of her voice, partnered with an expression I didn't see, seemed to be enough for the other woman to understand perfectly.

Without a word, she left to obey, while the redhead stayed to monitor me, fearful that I would make another attempt the moment I had privacy.

* * *

They gave me a guard after that day. Frankie had a talk with Negan to tell him what I had been close to doing and he'd established one an hour later. I could feel the constant presence of the awful woman lingering always outside my door. I was too drained to argue it though, and accepted the change grudgingly.

All glass items were removed from my room and they no longer allowed me any knives with my food. In fact, I now I had to eat with the wives, rarely left alone it looked like, except when I needed to sleep.

Daryl wasn't punished like I had expected.

Maybe Frankie was able to talk Negan out of it. I wouldn't have thought he'd be persuaded, but somehow, she managed it. It didn't seem like my meltdown in plain view of dozens of witnesses ever even came up the next time I saw him. He didn't even say anything about how close I had come to ending everything, but his tone did seem strained, like he was having sever difficulty withholding something back. I didn't know what it was and never found out before he promptly ordered me to go to my room after the encounter.

I only hated myself a little for wishing I had been quicker in ending everything when I had the chance.

I wanted to get away from that man so badly, that having a whole afterlife between him and me almost didn't seem like enough distance.

* * *

 **Author's notes: This chapter was difficult to write for various reasons. Judith is so young but already she's experiencing symptoms of depression and anxiety along with suicidal thoughts. She's ten fucking years old but she already feels helpless and drawn in a corner bad enough to think that taking her own life is the only solution she can find.**

 **Judith does not actually know what it means to "blow someone" but she's heard the term being used before by people (** _ **cough**_ **Negan) who've insulted others and has figured out that it's obviously some sort of vulgar slur.**

 **I couldn't resist using the insult Richie Tozier used in IT after he and the other Losers won the rock war against the Bowser's Gang and really wanted an opportunity to call that cowardly shit out for stabbing Rick's group in the fucking back after everything they've done for him. Even above Negan and the Saviors, Judith hates Eugene more than any others. He's unconditionally selfish, a liar** _ **and**_ **spineless and those are traits that Judith despises above all others.**

 **Negan's a pig and a beast but at least he owns it, and doesn't try to hide behind lengthy Shakespearian explanations for the shit he does in the hopes of distracting others with their own confusion as they try to work out what he meant.**

 **With all the shit that's been going on with Judith, being trapped in the Sanctuary, hit by Negan, beaten by her uncle, drained daily, traumatized, starved via hunger-strike, insulted, dehumanized, and incarcerated, it's understandable that Judith has a lot of pent up aggression and anxiety that she desperately needed to release and she found that release when Eugene got there. As much as she hates him, she's grateful for his presence because she's at least found an outlet to expel some of that aggression now, and since she knows Eugene is both deserving and won't retaliate, it makes him her ideal figurative punching bag.**


	47. If You Don't Bend, You Will Break

**Chapter 47  
If You Don't Bend, You will Break  
**I felt hopeless and constantly drained those first few weeks. It was the lowest I had ever been in my life. Negan wanted to stock up on the cure despite the doctor's advisement against taking too much from me too soon, especially since I was recovering from injuries and in dangerous emotional instability. I suspected he didn't care though and had no patience to wait for me to recover.

It was actually me who'd put the idea of expanding in Negan's head. With the cure at his disposal he could do a lot with it. By getting the word out to other groups, people would come to him of their own accord and would pay for it, too. For those people who extended beyond his reach through Virginia and neighboring regions, they would flock to the Sanctuary and offer him all the supplies and valuables he could have dreamed of.

Having the cure in his hands gave him more power than any other group could have ever dreamt of.

I was his "golden goose" as he'd put it. But if he butchered me it wasn't going to do him a lot of good.

It sucked and was a total piece of shit move on my part, but I figured I might just be able to come out of it winning.

In all honesty, it wasn't even really my idea. It took the appearance of a long-dead traveler to jar me from my depressive state and instruct me on just _how_ I could turn this situation to my advantage.

A few nights after my suicide attempt, I woke in my room to find a spirit I hadn't seen for years. It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the darkness but when I finally focused, I saw a large transparent figure sitting near the table.

"Merle?" I said, practically leaping up from my made-up bed on the floor. Out of all the entities I had seen before, he was the most surprising to encounter. "What—what are you doing here?"

He looked pissed.

"I'm tired of watchin' ya fuck up around here." He said bluntly. "I'm here t' watch over my brother but I also have to stand by and watch ya, too! I'm not a fucking babysitter. Ya got no idea what yer doin', brat."

My surprise for his appearance was only surpassed by strong offense. He had never said so much as a word to me, but he decided to show up _now_ to give me a lecture? I shot back at him angrily. "Well of course I don't know what I'm doing. I'm only a kid!"

"Think!" He said, pointing at his head exasperatedly. "Yer the fuckin' cure! He needs ya!"

"I know that! But he's got more power than I do!"

"Maybe he does." He announced. "But if ya play yer cards right, he'll give ya whatever ya want."

"I don't want anything from him!" I announced, turning angrily. I wasn't going to abandon my pride and start asking that bastard for things. "I hate him and I don't need or want _anything_ he could possibly give me!"

"That's yer fucking pride talking again. Ditch that stupidity already and listen for once."

" _Listen_?" I repeated with fury. "You've never so much as said one word to me, but you show up now to yell at me? I don't need your lectures!"

"Yes, ya do, because once more yer letting someone else call the shots for ya, without thinking of the big picture."

" _Big picture_?" I repeated in the same offensive tone, but then I paused. What was Merle trying to tell me? "What big picture?"

"The entire world wants the cure and yer the only one that exists." He elaborated. "Think about it; Negan will keep a tight-lip on it at first, but once people start figuring it out, they'll come here and try to take it by force or they'll have t' pay for it, and _a lot_ of people will pay for it."

Suddenly, I understood what Merle was telling me.

Negan would get rich and powerful. In fact, he would get _very_ rich and powerful. But I was the only thing that would ensure that. Without me... he had nothing. But he also knew I was a loose cannon if not properly monitored. I was crazy enough to do just about anything as was demonstrated, which was why he issued me a guard.

"Oh god. I _am_ dumb." I said with self-disgusted realization.

"Play it to yer advantage, kid." Merle went on. "If he don't have ya, he don't have nuthin', but then neither will yer people."

It was like a light blinked on in my brain by those words. He saw the reaction on my face and nodded. This was exactly what he was telling me.

Alexandria could benefit from this.

The next day, I found Negan in the wives' quarters. It had taken a while but I eventually managed to ditch my constant escort somewhere in the market. Being small and skinny definitely has its advantages for sneaking around. Even if I did have a giant red sign on me, it was surprisingly easy to bribe another kid with a music player I found in the room into wearing the blazing cloak for me and giving the woman a bit of a chase while I did my work. I didn't need her hanging over my shoulder, and her absence was crucial to how I would make this pitch.

When I approached the door I paused, not completely sure if I should just barge in. Merle said it was the best time ever to confront him about it, though. Catching him off-guard was the way to do it, preferably when he wasn't expecting he would have to counterfire.

"Don't bow out, kid." He had said, his presence standing over mine. "And don't show 'im that yer scared. Yer not scared of 'im!"

But I _was_ scared of Negan. He made Daryl beat me up! He let him get bitten. He could do anything he wanted to me and him and anyone else I cared about.

"No, he can't. He needs ya healthy." Merle argued. " **Do not** pussy out, ya hear me! Pussy out and yer family gits nuthin'!"

I shuffled outside the room nervously, reaching up and gripping Merle's fishhook charm on my neck. "Alright. But… stay with me?" I looked at him uneasily.

"Gotta learn to do these things on yer own, kid. What? You want me to hold yer hand in there?"

"No!" I snapped back, embarrassed that he had seen my weakness. "I just… want a little support. I don't know if I can do this on my own."

"I never got any support in life fer nuthin'. Learn t' do things on yer own!"

"I don't need you to stand by me!" I snapped. "But… it would be nice to know I wasn't alone. And what if I mess up or I don't know what to say next and everything goes wrong?"

He studied me. "Alright, little girl. If ya need I'll be around."

That was a bit of a relief. I sucked a breath in and stretched to my full height, filled with new determination. If Merle was around, maybe I could do this—No! I _**would**_ do this!

I marched inside and spotted Negan drinking what I assumed was beer and lounging on the couch with one of the girls on his lap and another leaning against his side. Sucking another deep inhale, I approached him with confidence.

I could do this! I **would** do this!

He saw me coming and his brow raised in surprise to see me just wondering in there. Then he smirked. "Not sure if this is the best place for you right now. But maybe you're getting a little curious. Hard to say what goes on in your head, but they do say girls mature faster."

I didn't react to those words. Merle had told me to let him make his insults and not to react to any of them. That's how he wanted to catch _me_ off guard.

 _Stay on topic_. Keep thinking of what I was there for.

"I have… matters of business to discuss with you." I announced, puffing up to keep the determination in me from evaporating. It helped to be standing while he was sitting. I was still shorter than him but only by about a few inches now so the extra height made me feel a little braver.

He laughed and his head tilted while a brow rose in amusement. "Really? _Business_?" He lifted the drink to his lips and I reached over and pushed it away, letting him know I was entirely serious.

" **Business**." I repeated looking him in the eye with all the courage and authority I had to muster. Inside though, I was a trembling mess.

His brow lowered in anger at my impudence, voice growing dark and deadly. "Fuck." He said almost reproachfully. "You really don't know when to quit, do you? I guess that lesson your friend Daryl taught you didn't stick very well, if you're trying to fuck with me now."

A cold sweat lit on the back of my neck but I answered calmly either way, "It did, but this is more important than any of that and we're going to settle this now, not after you're done screwing your—your concubines!"

That had been Merle's suggestion to say, but I edited concubine from "hos". I only knew what a concubine was from watching the movie, Mulan. If they could say it in that children's movie then I thought it must not be as bad to say and I had decided earlier maybe it was better not to insult the wives too much. They were the ones I had to see more often after all and I didn't want to get too far on any of their bad sides even if I didn't really like or respect them.

The room went quiet as all attention turned to the discussion. Both the woman on his lap and the one at his side got up, sensing something bad was about to happen. Negan rose to his feet as well, towering over me and looking ten times more intimidating, but I held his gaze even if my heart rammed so hard against my ribs and pounded my ears in a way that sounded nearly deafening.

 _Glare_! I told myself. _Keep glaring_!

"You're a real slow learner. I'll get Daryl back here to teach you a new one then, and this time—,"

"As unpleasant as that is for everyone," I declared cutting him off, "you want to hear what I say first! And if you don't like what it is—well part of it you won't like either way but you will hear it and I'm going to say it, so is there someplace we can discuss it professionally or no?!"

The room went entirely still. You could hear a pin drop.

"I don't have to hear anything from you." He said, sneering dangerously.

"Yes, you do, or I'm gunna be dead tomorrow and you will be out one cure for this epidemic and be dealing with a whole lot of shit from a lot of different people."

That got him to respond. He was the first to break from the stare down, glancing around at his women angrily as he took a moment to think. Moving a hand to my neck he steered me out of the quarters and back to his room. It was unnerving to be alone with him, but I glanced once behind his back and saw Merle leaning against the door and knew I wasn't ever really alone.

He said nothing but looked at the back of Negan's head like he were burning a hole through it. He had been with his brother even after his death. He couldn't help him, not really. No spirit could really interfere with the actions of the living. I didn't understand how it worked entirely, but I understood the ones that lingered didn't dwell entirely in the living world. Sometimes they existed in a sort of limbo. They didn't always see the living either, or so I had been told by Vanessa. Some spirits were stronger than others. If they had unfinished business, like a loved one they needed to look after it was easier for them to switch between the planes of existence.

In order to make an impression upon the world they needed to feel strong enough emotion to access the energy they no longer had in life. Sometimes it was just strong enough to move things, if only slightly. The more they managed to harness that energy then they'd be promoted to something of a poltergeist, but it was extremely rare and almost no spirit could do it, nor did they really wish to. It helped if there was something tethering them to the world like a physical object, or better yet, a place. Glenn could move back and forth from where I was to where Maggie was because I had my charm bracelet with the racecar that I used to represented him, and back at Hilltop, Maggie had the watch her father had given to him after they'd received his blessing when he asked to marry her.

Sometimes, if a spirit was persistent, they could visit their loved ones in sleep, the moment during life that imitated death the most, and send them fragmented messages from beyond the grave. Normally they were too scrambled by the spirit's excitement and it wasn't often that the living individual remembered the messages after waking, and over time then tended to forget them.

Better yet, spirits could make an even greater impression if they had a catalyst they could possess and act through, like a medium or a witch similar to me. After what Glenn had done that one time with Negan's bat, I never intended to let any spirit use me like that no matter what the reason. But that incident had prompted me to take extra precautions with a ritual that would deny any spiritual forces from ever puppeting me around like that again.

Still, I didn't quite know why I was able to see them so easily; if it was something other witches like me could normally do. From what I learned from the many books Vanessa had shown me, there wasn't much about such a subject. All I knew was that what I could do was something similar to Necromancy, but most of that required rituals and dark magic that needed to be called upon with materials and that specialized with that kind of energy. I had never required anything like that to talk to my dead before and I never dared to willfully call on them either. They always came to me themselves.

To force a conversation by way of a séance was considered rude, and not just that, it was dangerous. I could accidentally call on something negative and the last thing I wanted was to end up with a spirit like a banshee that'd scream at me when I was trying to go to sleep, and that wasn't even the worst-case scenario.

Vanessa had assured me she might be able to tell me more about it someday, but she said it was best if I was a bit older to really understand. Now it looked like I was never going to really understand.

I tried not to think about Vanessa very often these days. It hurt too much and I missed her greatly. Even if I had her tooth to a charm on my ankle her spirit was not like Glenn's or any of the others. She had been a witch when she was alive and sustained her shape with an energy much different than regular ghosts. Her shape could manifest and be maintained much more often than others only because of the spells and runes that were interwoven all around the diameter of the property where she lived with a physical body. She couldn't leave it, even if I did attempt to call upon her.

But I couldn't think too much about that right now. This meeting was too important to let my thoughts wonder. So, I tried to keep my attention on the conversation at hand and the two male presences I needed to consider.

Merle was still glaring at Negan from his place by the door, unable to act. After all he'd watched this man do to his little brother, I wonder if he hated him as much as I did.

I could do this. I could do this!

"You dragged me away from my lounge time, brat." His grip on my neck tightened so hard there would definitely be a bruise there. The tone his voice had was frightening enough to make me want to flee with my tail between my legs and crawl right back under a bed, where I could curl up in the dark space and never be seen again. "So, this had better be good. If you've wasted my time I'm going to take a whole arm off of Daryl."

I glanced at Merle, seeing the furious reaction he had with that last statement and swallowed hard. I could do this! I could do this!

"You do have me on a leash," I said to him. "I'm not arguing that, but you're on mine just as much as I'm on yours."

My words made him pause. "Is that what you tell yourself?" He mocked, chuckling loudly. "How do you figure that?"

"Let's face it," I announced bracing myself to keep from breaking, "I'm going to make you richer and more powerful than you've ever been before. People are going to come to the Sanctuary on their own when they find out what you've got. They'll want it and they'll pay for it with whatever they can offer you, but none of that matters if your golden goose is butchered." I paused for effect, glaring daggers at him and I could tell I had his entire focus on my words. "I could kill myself. I can do it, as we've established before. If you haven't noticed yet I don't have my guard. If I can slip away from her so easily, it wouldn't take a whole lot of effort to get something lethal in a few seconds. And in my opinion, it really doesn't matter which way I go so long as you aren't there on the other side. If it means I'd be rid of you, you know I'd do it. Then where would you be? Back to square one. And yeah, you can threaten to kill my family or hurt Daryl if I tried, but threats like that don't matter to a dead girl. And I think there would be a lot of people out there that'd be pretty angry to find out that you had a cure but, like always, you went and fucked it up for everyone."

He no longer smiled as he listened to my argument.

 _Good_. I hated it when he smiled.

His eyes narrowed at me. "So, what do you want?"

"Half!" I said to him. "I want half of everything you collect from your trades to be distributed to _my_ people, and you no longer are allowed to take anything from the town of Alexandria again, not so much as a loaf of bread. And—and Daryl is treated better! He gets a bed, clean clothes, and proper meals from now on! That's my deal!"

He was damn livid at the offer. In one fell swoop I was going to take away his favorite town to fuck over. I was taking my father away from him. With this deal, he would never be able to touch them again. And then maybe… just maybe my dad could summon his strength again, summon his courage and become the powerful leader I knew him to be and crush this motherfucker once and for all.

His grip moved from my neck to the collar of my shirt and hoisted me off my feet. I looked back at him, meeting his glare and consciously aware I couldn't flinch from it. This was strategy; I had to show him I meant business. Any moment of weakness would be used against me. "You really didn't learn much from that demonstration your friend Daryl made."

"I learned that you can make pretty much anyone do whatever you want," I said, "but I still have a trump card, and I'm using it!"

" **No one,"** he began furiously with a rumbling growl, "tells me what to do."

"Except someone who can take a potential enterprise from you! And that someone is whoever the cure is, and right now that's me! I might not have an army or weapons or any of that. But my life is mine to take when I want to. Just try and stop me!"

Then he laughed. "You really think you're going to control me that way? You think I'm going to believe you would just kill yourself?"

"Are you serious? With how close I got the other day?" I said trying not to shake in my boots. "I was ready to do it! Gods know I was ready to do it! The world's a big giant cesspool filled to the brim with dead people or people like you! And I'm stuck here without any chance of leaving! If I've got nothing to gain and nothing to lose there's no reason to stick around? And with the disgusting way you treat people—even your own people—all you've managed to do is fill me up with—with dysphoria! And if there's no promise my situation will improve… well you imagine what happens!"

His eyes swept my expression, trying to detect a flicker of doubt or hesitation, but he found none. Finally, his hand opened, releasing my shirt so I stumbled away from him.

I couldn't tell what his expression was and my eyes flickered back and forth from Merle's transparent form to Negan. There was a terrible silence that filled the room, as if he were trying to find a loophole within the logic and threat I had proposed. Finally, his mouth turned up and he started to clap slowly.

"Well done." He announced with that unnerving shark grin. "Just when I thought I was beginning to figure you out, you're just full of more and more surprises. If you were a few years older I might just be in love."

My face twisted in disgust. "Messed up!" I deadpanned looking appalled. I snapped back on topic quickly, though. "Back to the point, those are my conditions."

"Hmm… 'fraid I don't think I'll be able to give you an even half. Let's say thirty percent."

I didn't need to look at Merle's shaking head to know what my decision was going to be. "No. My deal is already reasonable. Especially when _I_ say half I mean HALF and not "half is whatever I say it is," quoting _you_."

The vein in his neck bulged as he tried to conceal his rising fury. "You run a hard bargain."

"Guess who I learned that from?" Ugh! Just thinking of similarities between me and him filled me with disgust. I was NOTHING like him! But I had a feeling he would enjoy the comparison so I ran with it. Behind him, Merle nodded in approval. Looks like he thought so, too.

Negan did like it. He strode passed me to the small bar in his room, unstopping one of the bottles and pouring a glass of something that smelled like gasoline or something like it. "I had no idea you looked up to me like that."

"Well I have to look up to everyone! That's the problem with being short."

"I guess it is. But we're running a hard bargain here I want something more. You've already proven that your tough as nails, you won't bend or break but this time you will."

I swallowed by those words feeling the sweat on my neck slide profoundly down as he went on to elaborate. "You **will** obey me. You will stop fighting me once and for all and you will fall in line right by my side. You will no longer force my hand and you will be thankful and sincere about anything I choose to do. Do we have an agreement?"

My anger flared hot as I prepared a retort to tell Negan to go straight to hell, but then I saw Merle and he looked angrily towards me. "Don't fuck this up now, kid. Just do it this time!"

Every instinct in me fought against the idea. But then the fire was doused and I swallowed hard against the angry ringing in my ear. To anyone else it seemed like a small thing, but what if Negan told me to do something I couldn't do, something that went against my nature, that challenged what I believed in. What if he ordered me to do something humiliating or demeaning. I wasn't quite certain what that could be, but knowing him, I could guess.

Even so, I knew there was no other way around it. Faces erupted in my head at that moment. Dad, Michonne, Carl, Mari, Tanti, Louis, Aaron, Eric, Rosita, everyone—they were counting on me to do this, to help them, even if they didn't know it. Other faces burst in my vision, too. Abraham, Glenn, Spencer, Tara, and the most recent victim, Olivia. They were all dead thanks to this terrible man. And there was Daryl to think about, too. My uncle was _practically_ dead. He was like a ghost; he was worse than a ghost and it was far more likely things would get worse for him rather than better if I didn't do something to help him.

My comfort didn't matter in the long run, nor my pride, the one thing I held value over everything else I owned. But if I didn't do something about it now, it was going to cost me more than I had to give, and the next time it wouldn't be me who would pay that price. Negan had promised that.

There were other people to think about, there were other people to take care of. I had been selfish and stupid this whole time. Was I going to let one minor condition stand in the way of my people's freedom?

I swallowed, knowing what my answer was, but tasting ash as the words came out anyways. "Okay. Yes. We have an agreement."

He smiled, looking deeply pleased with himself. It took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to gut punch him. Then he handed me a glass of that same bitter smelling liquid. "Let's toast to a bargain well struck."

I looked down at it curiously. It smelled awful and I was suspicious, but a quick glance at Merle told me I wasn't going to be drugged or poisoned. My portion was smaller than the man's was, but I was still apprehensive towards the drink.

"You ever have whiskey?"

I looked down at the glass, smelling the fumes experimentally. Brewing alcohol had been our main form of tribute to the saviors for a long time. We chose good, because they took a lot of it.

I had grown up watching adults drink this stuff all the time and had been curious about it myself, but the smell of it always discouraged me from trying it in the end, that is, if a wiser adult didn't do the job first. But I _had_ tried a beer once before.

There was a bottle I had snuck from shelves of the distillery back home. It was only out of curiosity that had caused my uncharacteristic act of theft. Growing up watching movies about grownups drinking this stuff, family members indulging in it every once in a while, even reading about it in books, my curiosity had gotten the better of me this one time.

Even if Carl was allowed to drink it Dad and Michonne absolutely refused to allow me any of till I had reached maturity. He told me it was for older people, after they've quit growing. I knew it made people feel funny when drunken in quantity but I didn't understand what sort of "funny" until I decided to sate my curiosity. So, stealing away into the forest one day while the Saviors were visiting, I took my prize to the island and sat in the boat to indulged in my beverage before seeing Vanessa for my lesson that day.

The taste was terrible and the first mouthful almost completely discouraged me from finishing it right then and there.

It was bitter and sour and dry. It was so gross and I hated it, but I wanted to know what Dad meant by "funny" and I wanted to know the whole extent. I didn't want to finish it, but I determinedly gulped down the rest of the bottle's contents before I could talk myself out of it.

What came after made me vow to never indulge in anything similar to it ever again. My head got dizzy and I stumbled around the cottage in a daze. I was convinced, though, that nothing much about me had changed. Well, besides having a bad taste in my mouth and maybe the floor seemed just a _little_ tilted, now. Vanessa had shown up at the absolute worst possible moment right then and I spent the next few minutes hacking the drink back up in the kitchen sink. Later I had passed out right on the couch and didn't wake up until Vanessa had roused me to get back home.

To let my respected and deceased teacher see what an uncontrolled mess I had become under the influence, was one of the most humiliating moments of my life and I cringed at the memory as I stared into the glass.

"People drink it back home, but my dad wouldn't let me," I told him. "He said it isn't something kids should drink."

"Not often," Negan informed, "But maybe just once in a blue moon." He knocked his glass against mine making a loud clink as he tilted it back. "Word of advice for a first timer: don't keep it in your mouth long enough to taste it. Best to throw it back quickly. Bottoms up."

I glanced once at my glass, new apprehension for this beverage growing with his warning. I thought I knew a little about what to expect and my stomach clenched with the memory of that first time. Even with it in mind, I wasn't about to show him I was afraid of a drink. Before thinking of it too much, I inhaled a large breath and downed it in one gulp.

Beer had not prepared me for whiskey in the least. Fire and gasoline coasted down my throat. It was the worst thing that had ever been in my mouth but I forced it down all the way. The meager amount of whiskey was so much smaller than the larger portion of Negan's, but he was accustomed to the taste and passing sensation, I wasn't. My brain fogged and everything felt strange and fuzzy, just like with the beer only worse and instant rather than gradually back when I was finishing that one watered down bottle. I coughed, leaning on my knees as I tried to keep the liquid from rising up again. I wondered if that was what cyanide tasted like.

" _Poison_." I wheezed swallowing hard on spit to rid my mouth of the taste.

Negan laughed loudly and I felt so humiliated.

"That'll knock you on your ass, now won't it?"

"Shut up." I hissed at him, coughing more and trying not to black out.

"It's a little disappointing." He said, taking in my reaction with a frown. "I was partially expecting you would suck that down like a pro. Still, for a first timer and kid your age, I suppose you took it like a champ."

He took the glass from me and stacked it with his own at the table. "You really are the breadwinner in your family aren't you? Always finding ways to provide for them. Even all the way back here and you're still making sure they're taken care of."

He sounded like he admired it.

More than anything else I hated it when he praised me. I hated pleasing him in any way.

"Everyone does their part." I told him. Even if I was dizzy from the effects I still had my own venom along with my judgment on how I could utilize it with the maximum damage. "Everyone takes care of everyone. They're not like _your_ people one bit. They're NOT Negan."

I had heard of how people seemed to all be Negan here. Just another shield for him to hide behind, used in a way to make it seem like they were all united somehow as a conglomerate organized force operating under the name of the individual that claimed to have "saved them." But it wasn't that way. I knew it, I saw the truth even if no one else here could. It was just another way to strip them of their individuality. That's why no one cared about anyone here. Why they didn't seem to morn their dead. It also served as a shield for him to use so that Negan could be the faceless destructive leader of the hated fascist regime. It was just another way for Negan to use all of them. To hide behind all of them. The fact that they couldn't see that, made them all worse than enemies; they were scum.

If they wanted to be Negan they were the absolute worst people that ever lived on planet Earth in the history of civilization and I'd make sure they would all burn for it.

My words, though I understood that they were going to cost me even before I said them, I still did said so anyways, because I hated him, and that hatred was blinding.

Negan's pleased expression was gone just as soon as it'd appeared. "I'm going to put our little deal to the test now and give you an opportunity to apologize for that statement, sweetheart, because you promised to behave from now on."

I didn't want to apologize. I meant what I said. Every word. But I knew I had to. I deflated, forcing myself to lose my tense indifference and adopt sometime like… not submission, exactly, but accepted weariness, like this battle was beneath me.

"I… I'm sorry." I struggled, trying to sound as earnest as I could, because I really didn't want to have to say it again like he would probably make me if it didn't satisfy.

But despite my effort Negan wouldn't let me get off that easy. "Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for being disrespectful."

There was a short pause while he considered it. "I forgive you."

He said it like it was incredibly benevolent of him to do so.

 _You're not._ I wanted to snap at him so, so badly. _You're not benevolent. You're not merciful. You're not GOOD! There's nothing good about any part of you and I'm going to hate you till the day I die!_

"I can see this is a bit of a struggle for you." He said out of nowhere, studying my strained expression.

So maybe I wasn't as good at disguising my features as I had tried to be.

"And I'm not entirely convinced, but I'm willing to give you a chance to demonstrate it. So, you're going to find Claire and you're going to apologize to her."

I looked at him in confusion. "Clare?" I didn't know a woman named Clare, only a man. A man who was long gone by now and Negan couldn't have possibly known about him.

" _Claire_ ," He insisted. "The woman who keeps an eye on you."

"Oh." One of my many babysitters I realized. The guard that I ditched. But what did I do wrong to her? "Apologize for what, though?"

"For sending her on a wild goose chase trying to find you. I'll bet she's been all up and down the Sanctuary looking for you and is panicking right now because she has no idea where you are."

I snorted involuntarily at the thought. "What am I supposed to say to her? 'Sorry you can't do your job very well?'" I announced it all without thinking. I swallowed the rest of the words that were on my tongue, mindful that I had agreed to behave from now on.

 _Damnit. There I go again._

Negan wasn't amused and I knew by the way the vein bulged in his neck he was close to getting angry with me. "S." He tested sternly.

 _Oh man_ , I already hated this. Still, it was best to just take the pill than resist it, at least then I could take it my own way. I could apologize, but that didn't mean I needed to lower myself to her. Just because I promised to behave didn't mean I promised to be courteous. They could be sure I wouldn't rebel, or shout, or insult them if their egos proved to be so delicate.

"Okay. Yes. If she needs one so bad, I'll apologize to her, but I want something for it."

My response must not have been what he had expected, as I did not stubbornly refuse nor meekly surrender reluctantly, as was my nature. Negan stilled himself, glowering and waiting for my demands.

"Daryl." I told him firmly. "I want his living conditions improved right now. After you've done that I'll trust you can answer to the rest like I insist and then I'll apologize to the woman."

Negan wasn't pleased. He had meant the demand to subdue or humiliate me, because he didn't expect my pride would allow me to admit I was wrong. I wasn't wrong and I didn't regret what I had done. Then I had turned the situation around on him by agreeing to it, and only by my conditions.

He seemed to think wildly of a way to bring me to heel again.

"And after you do that you're going to get cleaned up and put something decent on. I want you ready for dinner tonight and I want you wearing something suitable WITH your cloak. Wherever you've put it, you're going to find it and I never want to see you without it again."

I grimaced with the reminder. I hated that thing so much, but there was no way I could refuse it. For the life of me, I didn't understand why he wanted me to wear it all the time. What was his nasty obsession with the cloak? It was straight up creepy.

"Fine." I said with no other words than that. Even if, for the past few weeks, I had been allowed my meals alone my most frequent company was only the wives and or my guard. Not since the first time I promptly shut the possibility down, none of them had even attempted a conversation with me, and I was perfectly content with this development. I did not want to get to know anyone. Still, I quietly knew that I would eventually have to endure another dinner with my warden sooner or later, it was just a matter of when that was going to be.

Yet still, I knew this dinner was established more as a test to see how well I intended to behave for him, rather than an opportunity for so called "quality time". I was beginning to sincerely hope he was starting to despise my company as much as I hated his.

And yet I continued to wonder dismally just how much Negan intended to test my boundaries tonight and shuddered at the idea.

With my agreement, Negan seemed satisfied and turned me towards the door. "Alrighty then, let's go find Clair then."

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** **I know right. It's been so long since I updated. I've been procrastinating with it so much because I wanted to try and post some artwork like I promised I would.**

 **Well… I did! Yay! You can view it on my deviantart account. And since fanfiction is mean and doesn't let anyone attach links or pictures to their stories (I should really just keep this on archive of our own, but that sight makes things even harder to edit sometimes) here is the link itself with spaces doodlebugqt . deviantart . com**

 **I've only got like three pictures up right now, but I will post more later.**

 **In the meantime, OHMYGOSH! Did you watch the recent episodes? I'm so emotionally invested in this horror story and yet at the same time it is seriously the only show that makes me want to kill myself after every episode! Not even Game of Thrones could do this, since they usually showed us the horrible stuff first and then ended with Khaleesi being a freaking badass! That way, it didn't leave such a horrible sensation of anticipated anxiety and fear for next week's abuse on our beloved characters. I mean it was still there but we were comforted with thoughts of Starks becoming more and more awesome and honorable. It sure feels like there's no comfort AT ALL in TWD!**

 **I mean, do they seriously have to kill off EVERY doctor? These writers SUCK!**

 **I just want everyone to live happily ever after already. Although, I can't really talk for myself, I guess. I assure you there will be more suffering to follow in this tale, but as much suffering as I promise there were will be a fair amount of fluff to compensate.**

 **As always, I encourage and appreciate all your wonderful comments.**

 **Luv ya lots, guys!**


	48. Lighter than My Shadow

**Chapter 48  
Lighter Than My Shadow  
**After we found my guard again, the woman looking rather frantic as it seemed she had been searching all up and down the length of the factory for me the moment she realized my trick. At the sight of me being led by Negan himself, she seemed to visibly breath in relief, probably grateful to see that her ass was now saved and any alert she needed to make on my disappearance did not need to be issued.

When we reached her, Negan pushed me forward expectantly and I apologized, making it sound more out of professional courtesy rather than true regret, fiercely keeping my words devoid of any emotion. Though it didn't seem to be the tone Negan had wanted, he could find no actual complaints with the apology, so I didn't need to repeat myself, at least.

Afterwards, I was sent back to my room till the time for the dreaded dinner and was told to be presentable. The wives let me wash again in the shower and I figured he wanted me to wear a dress, so I grudgingly found a light purpled colored one with short flutter sleeves I wore under the scarlet cloak.

In time my guard told me dinner was ready and I met Negan for the second time that day. It proceeded without marginal incident for either of us and though Negan had definitely tested my impulses, I tried to quell them as well as I was able to. Even so, the occasional snark remark still managed to slip out no matter my self-control.

Thankfully, it was an event that went by without needing to resort to hurting anyone, a much different end as per usual towards these evenings. It was hard, but I initially figured that as long as we steered clear of conversation of any kind, the ending result would not bear unfavorable outcomes for either of us.

Negan loved chatter though and still attempted it. For some reason the topic of conversation seemed to be directed towards my interests and other tidbits of information. My favorite color, my favorite foods, what sort of books I enjoyed, who were the best super heroes—crap like that. To others the questions might have seemed harmless enough but there was very little that was considered harmless where Negan was concerned.

The moment the first inquiry was out of his mouth I was on high alert.

"Why do you want to know?" I demanded after asking me what my favorite color was.

He smiled in the way I hated most. "Well, it's sort of come to my attention that there's not a whole lot we know about one another. I think for this to work we should at least get to know some small details about the other. Don't you think?"

"No. I don't." I stated firmly, not needing so much as a moment to consider the proposal. Why in the world would he ever assume that would be okay with me? "I think we should have as little contact with one another as we can." I continued. "I promise I'll behave from now on, but I'm not ever going to be your friend."

I could feel the fury on him far before I saw it. My news was not what he wanted.

"You also agreed to obey me." He countered. "Like it or not, you and I are going to be spending a great deal of time together. And when we are in each other's company I intend to fill that awkward silence whether or not you agree with it. Communication in any relationship is key, and if this arrangement is going to work, we'll have to be open with each other. So, I think it would be smart if you stopped resisting every single thing I propose and just give it up already."

"I never give up." I announced boldly.

Negan wasn't angry about the declaration, much to my surprise. "I know. That's what I love about you." His mouth became a tight smile. "But there's a time and a place for that behavior and it is not around me. So remember your promise or we can go back to how things were before. Your choice."

My lips pursed together in a tight pout before finally surrendering to the ruthless questions he had, but the rebel in me would not submit so simply and I tended to lie about most of his inquiries or deny any interest in what he asked. I wasn't quite certain about what the future relevance to these would be but I had no desire to encourage his prying. I doubted it was merely out of friendly curiosity for him so I resisted the best I could get away with.

There was always a different agenda he held, after all.

It was such a blessing when I was finally allowed to leave and be alone once more. Dinners with him weren't frequent, much to my immediate relief, though I was still required to endure him whenever he called.

Even with the constant torment of Negan's presence I still felt a small relief inside of me. Perhaps, at least, the worst of my time there had passed.

* * *

I began to donate regularly. I had no energy while I was reduced to a human juice box and there was little I was able to do since I wasn't allowed outside. The factory grounds were an area I really couldn't wander around in nor did I really want to anyways. They weren't the woodsy lands of Alexandria, rich in vegetation and sparse on walkers. It was just the opposite really. There was nothing but walkers surrounding this land and looking at it made me cringe in disgust. It was depressing and daunting. Every time I looked out a window and caught sight of one of those things, I had to look away immediately.

Although, I suspected that if I really wanted to, I could walk through the mote of chained dead. They weren't going to bother me after all and I hardly expected anyone would be able to stop me once I was beyond their reach.

But it didn't take long to realize that even casual walks were a chore these days. Every step felt heavy and off-balance. It was like I was a stranger in my own body. At times I couldn't even get up from the bed in the infirmary.

I didn't know why they bothered giving me a room when I practically lived down there now. This other Doctor Carson was not like his brother at Hilltop. He was colder, and far less comforting than that healer had been. There was little he seemed to be against in consideration to how others were treated around him. His only job was to patch people up, not question their injuries.

I guess living in this place, surrounded by these people had made him rather apathetic. Maybe it was just me, but he seemed less like a physician and more like a mad scientist, since he was apparently quite partial for experiments and I seemed to be his initial lab rat for the ones he conducted. I never saw the experiments her performed, but I knew he was conducting them. I prayed dearly that it wasn't on living people but there was a sinking suspicion that it probably was. Wherever these so called subjects were being held it was no where I had access to. Even if I did, there was probably very little I was allowed to do for them, I was under constant surveillance wherever I went, so what point would there have been to try.

In order to conduct his studies, he needed a lot of samples from me. Blood and plasma were the tip of the iceberg for him. Among those things he took hair samples, lymph nodes, and a patch of my skin at one point. I even once overheard him talking about an operation to take a piece of my liver. That had terrified me enough, but the real problem came when he discussed drilling a hole through my hip and taking my bone marrow.

I had been wracked with terror about the idea. Needles and blood donations were one thing but cutting me open was another subject entirely.

* * *

I was completely panicked this time. I had complied with their requests and their tests with no complaint thus far, but this was where I drew the line! I couldn't do it this time. I just couldn't!

"She's putting up a fuss, today." The doctor announced as Negan waltzed in.

"Why, what's going on?"

The doctor sighed adjusting his glasses as both men approached where I was glued to a chair in utter terror. "I want to take a bone marrow sample from her and she's not too thrilled about the idea."

Of course, he would say it so abridgedly. He had explained the procedure to me earlier and it was nothing so simple as all that in the least. It was straight up terrifying. "H-he wants to drug me and drill a hole in my hip and insert a needle this BIG and drain out my bone marrow!"

"It's more like _this_ big," he corrected, demonstrating with a smaller length of his hands. "Plus, we'll have you under anesthetic the whole time so you don't feel a thing and we'll be sure to do it in a completely sterilized environment preventing any infection."

I pressed my back deeper into the chair feeling as if I could sink into the material and somehow merge with the object, thus making whatever procedure they planned to do, utterly impossible. "Nonononono! I don't want to do this. Donating blood and plasma almost every day is one thing but I don't want anything going into my bones!"

"Judith—,"

"No—NO! I let you people poke and prod me every day a-a-and conduct your weird experiments and prescribe me a diet and make me do this and that exercise for your reasons but I draw the line here! I'm not doing this! I-I _can't_ do this! I'm human and humans have limits—and well this is my limit, okay!"

"The doc says it's perfectly safe."

"THEN YOU DO IT! Y-y-you do it first!" The words were out of me before I had time to think about them.

"Uh…"

"See? See! It freaks you out, too! There's no way you'll do it! I'm not crazy! This mad scientist is!"

He looked stunned, and when it was obvious that I was genuinely afraid of this procedure he turned to the doctor. "Is this really necessary."

"Okay now you're definitely exaggerating."

"Actually, I do need to gather a marrow sample from someone else… if you're going to offer…"

Negan looked back at me and I was suddenly under the impression that there was something different in his gaze. Some sort of new understanding. He looked back at the doctor and pulled him aside, speaking lowly in the corner while they debated over something.

Eventually, they came back and though the doctor looked somewhat disappointed I was still on high alert.

"Okay, we'll hold off on any marrow samples for a while and use that time to try and see if we can build up a little more weight on you."

I breathed a deep sigh of relief with that announcement, feeling much better yet still surprised somehow that Negan had talked the doctor out of his strange, frightening procedure.

* * *

Most of my time was spent reading whatever I could find but staying so still for that long eventually bored me to tears—well maybe not to tears, but I was moody.

I hated the Factory so much. The people were unhappy, the Saviors were savages and I had no energy for anything. But I'd stand it all if it meant my family didn't need to worry about meeting anymore offering deadlines for them.

That's really the only thing that got me through all of it. I had to think about my people and so long as there was a chance they would benefit from this situation, I'd keep letting them drain me. But it was taxing and sometimes I felt so weak it was like the smallest effort could knock me over. It was a good thing that I wasn't allowed outside, the wind would probably blow me away with one gust. I felt transparent and fragile.

I never felt fragile before I came here. Not ever.

Was it possible to be lighter than your shadow?

In the midst of all this there were several things the doctor realized as he was experimenting with the samples extracted from my blood and plasma. I overheard some of it one day as I was sleeping in the infirmary after a particularly demanding donation session. He seemed to have taken more than he meant to this time and as such it left me too weak and too tired to make it back to my room. So, I was told to spread out and recover on an extra bed while he worked.

I was in between drifting off for good when I heard Negan's voice just then and lied still, keeping up the pretense so I could eavesdrop.

"How's it look, Doc?"

"Strange." He announced. "I've done some tests and a few experiments and it seems as though administering her plasma is not actually a fully effective cure, but more of a treatment the same way as a tetanus or rabies shot is. Effective, before a certain point but not in the ways you might imagine. I am very confident the cure is in her somehow but I'm unable to access it to its full potential at the moment. I'm leaning on an odd hypothesis and there are several other tests and experiments I'd like to try in regards to it. Unfortunately, I don't have the proper equipment here to really conduct any."

"Well tell me what you need and the next party out will get it."

There was a moment of silence and I imagined the doctor was already producing a list of things to Negan before he spoke again.

"I'll also need something else." The Doctor explained carefully. "I need an assistant; another doctor preferably or ideally a trained chemist. Even a nurse would be sufficient. If you can find any of those it would be helpful in my work."

I heard Negan smile in his voice. "I think one of our generous towns might be able to provide us with a suitable assistant for you." I knew what that meant and so did the doctor, but he didn't say a word against it as he turned back to his work. I could feel Negan's eyes on my curled-up form as I pretended to sleep. "How's our supplier doing?"

"Honestly?" The doctor tested, sounding skeptical and displeased. I felt the air go stiff by his tone.

"She's chronically depressed and very tired these days, but she's been cooperating without objection so that makes things easier." Then I heard his tone sharpen. "It's unhealthy for her to donate so often. Healthy adults are recommended to typically wait three weeks between donations, but she's barely waiting between days. And those are people who are considered emotionally and mentally stable. She has no appetite and is very nearly anorexic. So, once again I stress that She. Is. Too. Thin. And too short. I need her to gain a bit of weight and grow a few inches if things are going to proceed the way we need them to."

"We're working on that."

I heard the doctor grumble just then as I pictured him looking back into his microscope. "Where's some pure protein bars when you need them?"

"Expired or all long gone by now."

A momentary pause before a deep breath from the doctor brought him back to the first subject. "There's also… one more thing I'd like to suggest." The man sounded hesitant as he went on. "A lot of the emotional stress she's been under seems to be building up quite a bit and it's really only getting worse. I've noticed that it increases especially when she's around… um… well you."

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm not allowed to see my own ward? Is that what you're saying, Doc?"

"That's not what I'm saying, what I'm _suggesting_ is maybe you could give her… a bit of space right now to adapt and heal from these first few weeks."

There was a moment of silence while Negan rolled over the recommendation. "That's just what she wants," he growled out with poison. "She hates me so fucking much and does everything she can to make sure I know it."

"I can't say anything about her opinion on anything. I'm sure her feelings on all of us isn't relatively high, but I'll be frank here; I can't have the only cure we have being beaten and traumatized regularly." He announced sternly, ridding the room of any kind of humor Negan had brought in with him when he entered. "If it turns out she is the exact sort of cure we've been hoping for, which I'm certain she is, her health needs to be a first priority; not because you like her not because she's some sweet little lamb—which she's not—but because we need her to live. We've been given only one shot at this—only one! And we can't screw it up. I want this dead world fixed and _I_ want to be one who succeeds in fixing it."

"Ah I see how it is." Negan hummed. "You want all the credit. That's what this is about to you."

The doctor wasn't in the least bit disturbed by his tone while he spelt out his reasoning. "The ones to end this madness that has unfolded over the world will forever go down in history as the greatest benefactors of our entire species. _Her_ name will be there, _your_ name will be there and you can bet that my name will be there right next to them." I could only imagine that the "Her" he was regarding happened to be me as I listened closer. "I never would have been arrogant enough to assume I'd have the opportunity to do it, but now that the tool has been placed in my hands I **will** do it. I'm not going to become another nameless forgotten dead person like the ones that guard this fortress or wonder the woods. Not by a long shot."

Another moment of silence and when Negan spoke again I could hear the impressed pleasure in his tone. "I'm reassured by your confidence. That determination is going to get you to high places."

"Just as long as I can get the things on that list, then we'll see what happens," With those final words the conversation was over and I imagined the doctor had turned back to his notes and microscope.

The stool he sat on squeaked loudly as Negan got up to leave, but before doing so I heard him walk towards me. I was sure to keep still and breathe as evenly as possible while I felt his eyes study my curled form. I wished I could have seen his face and the expression on it to maybe guess what he was thinking, but I didn't dare move until he was gone.

Before going though, he reached out and brushed my hair out of my face. It took everything in me not to flinch at his touch. So, I stayed still, pretending it was an absurd dream that I'd be able to forget tomorrow.


	49. to be Feared is to be Respected

**Chapter 47  
** **To be Feared is to be Respected**

"I've got something for you."

Negan greeted me with those words a few days after his discussion with Doctor Carson. I hadn't seen much of him since their talk and actually held out the hope that he would steer clear for another few days. I needed the break. But it looked like he was eager enough for a new dose of disgust dished from yours truly.

Even so, I recalled first the agreement we had made and reeled in my instinct to growl or glare at him. For the moment, I didn't have a whole lot of strength for either. It was another donation day and I was already drained enough and in no mood to play any of his power games. But even with that I was already worked up, and it really had nothing to do with Negan or anything he'd done this time, at least.

I sat bent over with my legs dangling over the exam table, the tube stuck in my arm and watched silently as red seeped out of me and was divided into those two bags of red blood cells and yellow plasma. I tried to read while this was being done, and normally my mind kept slipping making it hard to concentrate through the nausea and fatigue that plagued me almost constantly now, but today was different thanks to the material I was engrossed in.

Negan took a seat beside me on the examination bed and I didn't feel like stopping him. I saw a bag in his hand and, were I a bit more lucid, I would have been equally curious and concerned at the sight of it.

"What are you reading there, kiddo?"

I tilted the book to show him the title: A Series of Unfortunate Events.

"Well I hope it's good." Negan said.

"It's not!" I deadpanned angrily. "It's horrible and I hope everyone dies in the end!"

Negan leaned back, stunned by my, perhaps, out-of-character and heartless outburst. But if he knew anything about these books he'd definitely understand and he'd definitely want everyone dead in the end, too!

The concept and summery on the back of it sounded engrossing when I first read it, and the clear instructions to not read these books because they were sad and unfortunate, only seemed to make me want to read them even more. But as I got further and further into the stories, I became less saddened for the children's horrible run of bad luck and only more pissed off.

I mean, exactly how stupid was everyone in this universe?

Of course, the shady stranger whom no one had ever heard of before was Count Olaf!

I seemed to have a habit of voicing my complaints about the book out loud, without actually realizing it, as I sat there reading in the infirmary. When something irritating happened, I'd growl. When the adults refused to acknowledge the absurd disguises the Baudelaries saw through right away, I'd say something along the lines of, "Are you kidding me?" And when someone dismissed their warnings and concerns or made an insult that was WAY below the belt (usually involving their deceased parents who burned alive in a fire) I could never restrain my cry of, "You motherfucker!"

As much as everything that was happening to them pissed me off, what was worse was how easily these kids just took everything lying down! If I was in their position I could think of a hundred ways to stop what was happening to these children from happening again. For one, it would have been nice if they would just STOP being so fricken nice!

Stop repressing yourself! Yell at people, throw a punch, kick some ass, and take charge already! If you're going to fight back, then fight fucking back, and fight! Fucking! Dirty!

If they were mad, then be mad! They had every reason for it! Their parents were killed in a clearly devious manner, they were stalked by some creep that tried to marry the eldest, and people kept dumping them on one horrible guardian after another. And why the hell was a banker in charge of their welfare? Where was Social Services or hell even a lawyer would have been more qualified? What's with this VFD agency? As far as I was concerned, this mysterious secret service their parents were tangled in were not good guys one bit and all of them needed to fill a hole right along with Count Olaf and his mediocre acting troupe!

Everything about the stinken' book was so patronizing—a word which here meant, being an asshole to kids that have seen and been through some SHIT, so you're actually not nice, you're just a fucking retard!

If it was me in their situation, I would have stabbed everyone by now, and that braindead, coughing, Petri dish of a banker would have been the first one I killed!

The doctor didn't seem to appreciate my random growls of disgust though, and so finally issued his concerns on it. "You know if it bothers you that much, why are you already on the… seventh book?"

I muttered bitterly, diving back down at the page I was on awkwardly. "…because I want to make SURE everyone dies in the end."

Negan's bark of laughter grinded on my nerves, but I endured it all the same.

"Well I hope it meets your expectations then, even if it involves the death of unloved book characters."

"I sure hope it does." The doctor said from his place at his desk.

"In the meantime, I made a house call to Alexandria."

My head snapped up by that announcement. "You said you weren't going to be taking anymore tributes from them."

"I'll hold up my end of the deal after you've held up your end." He said simply.

"Hold up my…" I was just about stunned speechless by those offensive words. "What the hell do you think I'm doing right now?" I gestured, completely outraged, and held out my arm where the tube was impaled under my skin. "Alexandria paid the last of their fees to you when they gave you the cure!"

"They didn't give it, you handed yourself over."

"I'm still a citizen of Alexandria, ergo Alexandria still gave you the cure and by those rights we won't pay you anymore!"

"An active cure hasn't been successfully extracted yet so until then our house calls will continue only till it's been developed."

"But there's a treatment now! For all anyone knows, a fully active cure could take years to make."

"Well then I guess you should have worded your conditions a little better."

I didn't respond to that other than to gawk with my mouth hung open in appall. So, I was just bleeding myself dry for nothing!?

"You know what I meant!" I shouted angrily.

"Oh, don't act so betrayed. If it makes you feel better, I didn't take anything for myself today; only the things from your room."

That made me pause. "Why?"

"I want to make sure you're comfortable here, so I thought it might help if you were surrounded by some nostalgic items."

Those words stunned me for a moment, before a surge of anger shot through me by the news. I never asked him to do that. This place wasn't my home and I sure as hell didn't want the majority of my belongings held hostage with me in this place. He had no right to pack up my things and move me here so permanently against my wishes. I wasn't going to stay here forever! I was a breath away from telling him exactly this when I was stopped.

I watched him pull something from that same bag and hand it to me. My eyes grew big at the sight of what it was and took hold of the Book of Shadows that Vanessa had given me. The novel in my hands was tossed to the side as I took up the homemade tome. Its weight nearly toppled me over. I used to be able to carry it with hardly any trouble but now it felt as though I was trying to balance a stack of bricks. Even so, my hands traced over the ancient journal.

It was like seeing a friend.

Even with the spell book in my arms I was still so angry that he'd made my dad pack my room up for him. This wasn't my home and I didn't want to make it my home. It boiled my blood to find out he'd even looked through this sacred treasure, poked fun at the rituals, noted on the poetry, and judged the minds that fathomed them. He, of all people, was not one to comment on others' beliefs—not with his track record.

But even if I wanted to, I didn't bite at him… not immediately at least.

He seemed to be waiting for a reaction however, and cleared his throat to prompt me. "Well… what do you say, Judy?"

He wanted me to thank him, _again_. I answered his question with a question to avoid it.

"How was everyone?"

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it distracted him. "They looked alright from my perspective. Of course, they always look so grim during my visits so it's a bit hard to tell sometimes."

"How did my dad react when you told him to pack up all my things?"

The air became immediately tense with the question. Apparently, he had really thought having my things here would cheer me up, but he was wrong, just like he was wrong about everything. I knew the answer to that question but it was interesting to listen to the wheels in Negan's head turning to try and formulate a good lie or witty explanation. I heard him open his mouth, but I cut him off before he started.

"Never mind." I said bitterly. "I guess I already know."

His tone of voice turned drastically from his usual cheer. "I assumed having your things would make you feel more at home."

"Would you like this place to be my home?" I asked, distracting him again.

"I would very much like it to be."

I glared sideways at him and deadpanned back. "Well it's not."

I could feel him tense beside me. "What did I tell you about behaving, Judy? You've done so rather well for a while, don't fuck up now. Remember what I said about manners?"

My mouth set in a straight angry line while I kept my face from him and muttered a low, "Thank you for my things."

I would have definitely retorted something clever if I had the energy but I just didn't want to fight right now. Just to demonstrate that reality, a wave of exhaustion over powered me at that moment, and my head spun, watching the ground bobbing close to me. Shakily I righted myself before I had fallen off the bed, but the dizziness did not abate as easily.

Dr. Carson came over at that moment and severed the connection immediately while also thrusting a glass of juice in my hands. "Don't start any of that. Drink your juice."

I did as I was told and began sipping the cider without really tasting it. My strength was slow in returning and Negan was talking again, but I heard almost none of what he said. I think he was talking more to the doctor anyways because he got up and went towards him.

It seemed an opportune time to be paying attention but I just couldn't summon the energy for that much brain power. If I started to feel too faint I was told to lie back and rest against the pillows till it subsided. I decided to close my eyes for a moment, but when I opened them again Negan was gone, as was the doctor. I didn't know where they had gone but I decided it didn't really matter anyways.

Precious energy couldn't be wasted worrying about it, so I just leaned back and tried to rest a bit more before I had to tolerate either of them again.

* * *

In the bedroom I swayed a bit, feeling weak and faint despite my instance to the doctor that I felt fine to leave. I entered to find two boxes stacked in the center of the room. My belongings no doubt.

There was nothing else for me to do as I rooted through them. Clothes, books, and other personal items greeted me, filling me with their memories as I fiddled through it all. I had missed them, but I hated that they were here. It was like they could see me, see what I had turned into. Was I much different since I was last with them all? My hands touched something soft just then and I withdrew a familiar green cloak.

 _My_ cloak.

Pressing it to my face I inhaled a deep fresh scent. It smelled just like the woods. Just like the island, its garden, the greenhouse, the old cottage, it even smelled like town.

The pang of homesickness that greeted me was nothing I'd known before.

I tore off the crimson collar that ensnared me and threw it in a corner, leaving it there like a child in timeout, while I wrapped the emerald fabric around me and soaked in the magic of its scent. I curled under the bed with it, basking in the feelings of home that it carried. I still remembered when Michonne had given it to me.

* * *

I was seven and the motherlike woman asked me what I wanted for my birthday. We couldn't spare much, it was right after the Saviors had raided us, but she asked all the same. I begged her for a cloak much like the sand colored one she wore, just green—green like a pine tree. If that was all I got that year it would be fine with me. That's all I wanted, and I promised I wouldn't need anything else other than that.

As small as the request was, she hadn't been able to deliver for my birthday. Instead I got a new knife and belt with a holster. I was grateful for it all the same and it provided a distraction for my father to teach me how to use it properly. However, a few weeks later, Michonne returned from a supply run and presented me with a gift bag.

"I found something for you today."

I was overjoyed to find a green cloak, fashioned similarly to the one Michonne had, made from heavy, soft material, and green; so, so green. I held it closed with a violet scarab brooch when I wore it and the color of the shimmering jewelry made it look that much more magical.

It was like a shield was around me while I wore it. My space and my strength were threaded into the seams as thick as the scents were. But scents could fade… like the scent was beginning to fade right now. Thankfully magic is harder to kill; much harder.

I stayed curled under the bed until dusk began to fall and a knock wrapped at my door.

"Miss Grimes, Negan wants to see you for dinner tonight."

There was another thing that had changed recently. People called me Miss Grimes around here with my insistence after I had snapped furiously at the first man to ever address me by name. The scene was quiet amusing and at times I even entertained myself with the reaction the man had had afterwards.

* * *

I had been in the library when a man I had never seen before in my life walked up to me. "Judith. Negan wants…"

"Excuse me!" I snapped furious and loudly, making him jump nearly out of his skin. "But who the hell are you?"

He looked completely taken aback. "Umm… I'm—,"

"That was a rhetorical question!" I hissed. "Do you know how very uncomfortable it is for some stranger to use your first name like we're intimate?"

"Uh… I don't…"

"Another rhetorical question!" I snapped, straightening to my full height and putting the book I'd been about to grab back on the shelf disdainfully. "Since I don't know you and I don't intend to really get to know any of you people while I'm being held here, you can call me _Miss Grimes_ and I would appreciate it if you passed that on to your friends. Anyone who ignores this and decides to call me by my first name like we're passing buddy-buddy anecdotes, well… you might find yourself on the bad end of a very unfortunate walker accident and— _oh no_! When you come in for treatment there just might not be any available for you, and you better hope that bite is on a limb and all you'll need to do is shave off a few pounds, or you'll be succumbing to a very tragic death within a few _painfully_ short hours. You got that? Answer me!"

He looked stunned and startled enough to shakily respond with, "Yes—yes I get it."

"Good. Now my warden wants to see me?"

"Yes..."

"Now?"

"Yes, he does, Miss. Grimes."

"He's in his room?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. I'll see him there then. Now get the fuck out of my sight!" And with those words I dismissed him without another look his way, marching off unescorted.

* * *

The memory inspired strength when I looked back on it. I had scared the man so easily and it'd felt so good to do it. Being well feared around town had always been nice, too, at least among my peers. I hated to admit it but as ostracized as I was at times, there were occasions where I actually enjoyed the intimidation I may have inspired on occasion.

Just ask Jimmy Richards.

* * *

It was common knowledge around town that I was a bit of an outcast, especially among the other children. Before the waifs, being teased and gossiped about behind my back was nothing specifically new to me, though most everyone refused to do it to my face for various reasons.

In third grade though, there was this one particular boy who made it his duty to poke at me whenever he got the opportunity. His name was Jimmy Richards and a few months younger than me, so that may have been a factor in his immaturity. Of course, he did it discretely, in the lunch line, when I was seated at my desk, and even if I happened to ever pass him. His finger would somehow be aimed directly to jab at me wherever he could reach; behind my neck, my back, in my side or arm—one time he even got me under the arm pit. It became a bit of a game for him, I suppose, to watch me glance at him in outrage while he feigned innocence like he knew nothing about it.

Gradually, he moved on to bigger pranks; stepping on my toes, tripping me up, walking on my heels. It was aggravating but he acted just accordingly to make it seem like it was all by accident. Whenever I attempted to complain of this abuse, the teacher would curtly order him to stop and additionally instruct me to simply ignore him. I fumed in outrage at the negligent order, feeling blatantly brushed off. Jimmy may have ceased momentarily, but the behavior picked up again not long once her back was turned.

She wouldn't do anything about it. It was then that I realized I would just have to settle this matter on my own.

So, I didn't try to seek her again for help with anything else after that, even when his tricks reached new heights.

Eventually the antics were caught by the other kids who occasionally egged him on, seeing if they would get a reaction from me. Undoubtedly, they were expecting some explosion along the lines of how I normally reacted in the past, but I had a better idea for handling this.

One day during free period I sat down across from him, my hands propping my chin up as I addressed him in a formal business-like manner.

"I think you and I need to have a talk, Jimmy."

He looked very amused as he leaned back in his chair and grinned at me. "About what, Judy?"

"I think you know what." I told him, making my voice as heavy and intimidating as I could for the next part. "I'm only going to tell you one more time: Stop mocking me."

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders innocently. "What? I'm not doing anything. Is it my fault you always seem to be in the way of where I'm moving?"

"It happens so often I think it _is_ your fault. But I'm at least going to give you a chance to back down before something bad happens to you."

" _Oh,_ something bad is going to happen to me?"

"You'll only find out if you continue this behavior. Everyone knows I have a short fuse but I've stretched it a bit in this situation. I'm working on a little experiment and I'm in need of a guinea pig. If you turn this situation where I want it to go, you're going to be in for a very big surprise."

His brow rose as he looked at me unimpressed. "You know, using big, fancy words like that doesn't make you sound smarter, if that's what you think you're doing."

"So, most of what I just said flew over your head then. Very well; I'll spell it out in words you understand." I cleared my throat and leaned forward in my chair. "Stop teasing me or you will regret it… _forever_!"

For a moment, he looked a little worried. Then he chuckled uneasily and held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll stop. I can take a hint."

"Good." I got up from my seat and turned from him, but just as I was about to leave something caught on my shorts and yanked them all the way down to my knees. My head snapped down to view my own pair of white underpants exposed for everyone to see. I heard a howl of laughter from behind me and my brain suddenly understood what had just happened.

Jimmy had just pantsed me right in front of the whole school.

My face blazed red while Jimmy was rolling with laughter with the other kids looking very tempted to follow his lead, giggles escaping them despite their resolve. Several caught the reaction on my face, however, and held their breaths. My neck grew slick with sweat and I felt the blood pound in my ears. As much as I wanted to turn and tackle that slimy leech into the dirt I held off.

Calmly, I pulled my shorts back up, forcing an evil smile on my face as I glanced around at him. "Thank you for turning this in _my_ direction now. By the way, I heard you saying the other day that your least favorite animal was a horsefly, right?"

He was still laughing when he looked back at me, wiping the tears from his face. "Yeah, but who cares about that right now? That was hilarious, underwear girl!"

"Let's hope this is still funny to you in a week." I announced, with my back to him as I walked to my desk. There were several nervous giggles that followed me as I did so. I could only hope that my reputation as a witch hadn't worn off. I needed him to stew about it for a few days.

My words did shake him slightly for the next week and I think I could feel his eyes (clouded with what I hoped was concern) burn into my back on occasion. But a few days went by and he got over that rather quickly. An hour after he'd resumed his foot-stepping habit I snuck into the classroom during recess while it was empty, to place a plain cardboard box on his desk and then ran back out before anyone had missed me.

As we filed into the room, I used the reflection from the window to watch his reaction towards the strange box on his desk. I kept my gaze on the reflection while he looked towards me suspiciously, probably suspecting trickery but too dumb to turn away. Then he opened the lid, triggering the mechanism from inside. A puff of yellow dust immediately assaulted his face.

He coughed in surprise, swatting to clear the air. Everyone looked at him in bewilderment and the teacher asked what had just happened.

"Someone put a bomb on my desk!"

"Did it burn off your eyebrows?" Mrs. Lakely asked impatiently.

"No…"

"Do you have any injuries?"

"Well... no."

"Can you breathe alright?"

"Now I can."

"Then put the box away, Jimmy, and take your seat so we can get started."

He did as he was told but not before glancing my way. This time I was faced entirely towards him, my cheek propped up by my hand and owning a devious, satisfied smirk. The moment he caught sight of my expression I saw his entire face drain of all color as he looked back in total shock.

"Faze one complete." I whispered delightfully to myself.

For the rest of the day Jimmy stole worried cautious glances towards me and whenever I caught him nervously scratching his neck I couldn't help but smile knowingly.

By the end of the day there were scaly hives that had spread all over his face and hands. He only noticed them when we were allowed out of class for a bathroom break and he looked down and saw the dots marking him all up and down his arms. I watched the horrified reaction evolve on his face at the sight of them and it only increased tenfold when I materialized from right behind, seemingly out of nowhere, and leaned down to whisper sinisterly in his ear.

" _The mutation has begun. My gods are pleased._ "

As added horror, his nose began to bleed just then (not from my doing I assure you) and with my words combined with the rash, Jimmy Richards instantly screamed at the top of his lungs and bolted away from me. He burst back into the classroom, gasping and crying so uncontrollably he couldn't speak properly. But Mrs. Lakely was more concerned with his bleeding nose as well as the spots that had spread all over his body. Since we only had another half hour of school, the class was dismissed while Mrs. Lakely escorted him to the infirmary.

Even despite Jimmy's insistence that I had cast a spell to turn him into a fly, Tobin assured him that all he had was a mild case of hives and that they would clear up with the appliance of a cream.

That was true.

I knew Jimmy had a slight allergic reaction towards dandelions and had ground them into a dried powder that I implanted inside a booby-trapped box to dust all over him. The rest was psychology. Although, I am stumped about his nosebleed. It _was_ a very nice touch. Probably just the dry air, I suppose.

That had been one of my more masterful tricks and it would be a long time before I topped it.

As soon as the hives were beginning to clear up, I met him again, this time alone. Even if now he knew it was hives, the fear was still fresh on him and he learned to tread carefully now.

I leaned against the wall as I surveyed his clearing skin and sighed. "I guess it was a dud batch. My bad. Next time then…"

I left him with those frightening words as I turned away and climbed up on the monkey bars, every other child vacating them the moment I had touched the metal. From that point on, Jimmy tiptoed around me much in the way the other children did, though he cowed within my presence in a way that seemed like I had practically neutered him.

As twisted as it was, I couldn't help but smile while I hung upside down.

It felt good to be so feared.

* * *

I may have felt a little guilty for the way I handled that situation. As much as they drove me crazy, those kids were still my people, they were part of my town and they were part of my responsibility.

Thinking of it now, especially trapped in this place with these people, I wondered why I never gave any of them much of a chance, choosing to isolate myself instead of befriending them. I only started making friends when the Waifs had arrived, and even then, my circle was so limited. They weren't much different from me, I just… I didn't quite know why I never realized it until now.

After all, you don't always have to like your family, but you do have to love them.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: Geeze! It's been forever since I updated. Been hard to get into the mood for writing now that the show is over again, especially since I heard that you-know-who might be leaving the show. Well I guess we can predict who's going to die in the next season. Anyways, I thought I would give you guys two chapters today since I made you wait so long for them. I'm working really hard to make sure I don't abandoned this story like I normally do for the fics I upload. Lots of stuff going on here and, lots more to come.**

 **As always, your reviews are amazing and always appreciated.**

 **Luv ya lots, guys!**


	50. Those That Can't Do

**Chapter 50  
Those that Can't Do**

Once again, I found myself forced to endure Negan's company for another dinner. I hadn't had to put up with another one for quite some time thanks to Dr. Carson's suggestion that Negan allow me some space, but the air of it hadn't changed a whole lot. I was still furious to hear about Negan's trip into Alexandria earlier that day and it made me less inclined to cooperate. If he wasn't going to uphold his end of the bargain, there was no reason for me to uphold mine.

My reluctant behavior was for nothing!

I chewed the food in front of me woodenly, hardly tasting it. Once or twice, Negan tried to start a conversation, but I gave nothing to sustain it, opting to give him the silent treatment instead. I still hated him, he was still annoying as all get out and talking to him would just infuriate me more. His voice was actually starting to give me a headache, to add to the number of many other complaints I already had.

Just then, he said something that caught my attention.

"You know school started up about a week ago here. Tomorrow you'll be attending."

I jerked, sitting up and staring in horror about the idea. "Say what?"

He snorted with my exclamation. "So now you have something to say?"

"Hell yes. I am **not** going to school here." I declared immediately.

"Yes, you will." He fired back.

"Why? So, you can brainwash me with the other poor underage suckers in this joint?"

"You went to school back in Alexandria and you'll keep going here."

"And I hated it there as well and those were all kids from _my_ town. I'm not going to sit in with a bunch of tiny sociopaths all day! You can forget it."

"You're not going to be sitting around doing nothing every day. And I can't keep an eye on you all the time."

"No, that's what the stupid guard is there for, isn't she?"

"Your stupid guard has a name, if you bothered to remember."

"Well I didn't, because I don't care!" I fired back.

"Well you had better start caring about something around here. And you'll be upholding the same expectations all the kids here do and that includes going to school."

I dropped my fork and folded my arms across my chest stubbornly. "I won't go."

"Yes, you will."

"No, I won't."

"You will go if I have to drag you the whole way there. So, don't fucking test me, Judith. You've behaved rather well these few weeks; don't fuck it up now because I can guarantee, you do not was to ride this train with me. One way or another I always get what I want. Do you really want me to burn that message into Daryl's hide over something this ridiculous?"

I went quiet, turning my glare on my plate while I stewed in fury over this stupid turn of events.

"Class starts at nine, and you better be fucking on time."

* * *

I stood before this group of sad looking bodies in contempt and vengeance. Negan thought he could make me sit in with these dolts and learn he had another thing coming.

"Alright," The teacher announced, an old lady with graying hair and glasses. "We have a new student with us today. Would you like to stand and give your name please?"

Oh, I was going to do much more than give my name, that was for sure.

"Oh me? Why I'm just a prisoner here. I live in Alexandria but I was kidnapped and dragged here with all you lunatics because your infamous leader is a psychopath and all your soldiers are mooching good-for-nothings that leech off of better skilled and talented people. And I know for a fact that if people don't do exactly what they want, then they kill whoever stands in their way. You hear that? All of you are spineless murderers and cowards that need to disarm people and put them on their knees before you butcher them. I'm here now because I'm being forced to be here. None of you will ever be my friends no matter who you people torture to make me cooperate. You're my enemies and someday I will grind all of you beneath my boot.

"P.S. I am a witch. The dead are the ones afraid of me and if you piss me off I will set them upon you."

The teacher looked unfazed by this announcement but there were several of the kids that definitely looked much more apprehensive of me now.

"I'm quivering in my shoes." The woman announced, completely unamused. "Get back in your seat, now."

The day went by as she attempted to assign work to me. I zoned out during her lectures and occupied myself with a crossword puzzle I had found in my room. When we were told to get into groups for a project or reading or something, I hissed inhumanely at one of the kids who approached me and refused to move from my spot. He backed away and didn't attempt it again.

When asked a question or called on in class, I would sneer and say something along the lines of, "I don't care," instead of, "I don't know," to illustrate just how little any of it mattered.

By the end of the day I was no one's friend just as I promised.

* * *

"What's this I hear about you threatening your peers and teacher?"

This time Negan didn't wait for dinner to reprimand me but met me in my room the moment the teacher reported on my behavior that day and there we argued back and forth about it.

"I only told them the truth." I defended.

Negan only went on. "Not just that but your behavior today sounded pretty inexcusable."

"Well what do you want me to do? You just said I had to show up and that it was mostly to keep an eye on me anyways."

"You agreed to behave and part of that involves treating this seriously."

"It _is_ serious— _seriously_ pointless!"

"I am not having this fucking argument with you, Judy. Tomorrow you are going back to school and your behavior have better fucking improved. If it hasn't and the teacher has one single complaint about you then I'm going to drag Daryl up here and make sure—"

"You are not holding up your end of the bargain!" I announced, sharply cutting him off before he could get started again. "So, there is no reason for me to hold up mine!"

"I told you—,"

"It's the closest thing to a cure anyone has ever seen!" I nearly yelled, cutting him off again. "Don't you dare try to trick me with that bullshit! When the day comes where you're bitten by one of those deadbeats that would have either killed you or shaved off a decent chunk of your body weight, you're going to thank god above for the treatment I've kindly provided! So, don't you dare say it's not an active cure! I won't be deceived that way!"

He seemed to understand the purpose of my misbehavior, just then, and hastened to find a response. "I'm not arguing the importance of it." He growled.

" _Sure_ ; you're just not planning to pay for it! You just want to keep leeching off of others and be greedy and selfish like what you've always done."

The smack across my cheek was expected, and in the back of my mind I knew I was probably provoking him quite a lot, but I didn't care.

"Are you this fucking stupid?!" He shouted at me. "Are you seriously this dumb?!"

"IF I WAS DUMB I'D JUST LET YOU KEEP ON STEALING FROM MY HOME WITHOUT DOING A SINGLE THING ABOUT IT! BUT I'M NOT, SO I REFUSE TO BE PUSHED AROUND AND LITERALLY DRAINED OF MY LIFEFORCE WHILE GETTING NOTHING IN RETURN FOR IT!" I shrieked it loud enough to make him retract in surprise for my outburst. It also served to stun him to silence long enough for me to keep going. "And you said you weren't a liar but you are! You lied about this—you lie about everything! So, I'm not going to behave or cooperate or anything until Alexandria is paid honestly!"

Sometime during my rant my eyes had started to burn and hot, furious tears gathered under my eyes. It was humiliating to let him see me cry but I couldn't control it—just like everything else! I couldn't remember being so mad about something in my whole life, not enough to leak tears of rage right in front of my mortal enemy.

I didn't think I could watch his smug smile return when he saw the tears on me, so I refused to meet his eye, fixing my gaze in the corner while the water did nothing but slide down my face. I waited for his next snide comment and prepared for the damage it would make towards my pride, but it looked like I didn't have a whole lot of pride left to work with in my current meltdown, so it didn't matter a whole lot either way.

In the corner of my eye I saw Negan approach and grab me by my shoulder steering me roughly to the chair by the desk and seating me in it. I put up no fight, my energy spent after the long day and the humiliation for my loss of control. waiting while he took a seat across from me on the bed. The fury and wrath he had held with him when he first entered seemed to melt away, leaving behind a shell that was just as tired as I was of all of this.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as if holding back a migraine. "Fucking threats, bribes, and beatings and not a single fucking improvement." He sighed. It looked like he was emotionally exhausted by all of this as well. "This is pointless."

It surprised me to hear that he just wanted to give up, like this was too grueling to try and wrap his head around why I might have been acting this way.

"We had a deal and you don't want to uphold your end." I said, in a calmer tone and maintaining a watery glare without looking at him. "You took from Alexandria when you said you wouldn't."

"That was just to get your things. Weren't you the one complaining that you didn't have a toothbrush or underwear?"

"You implied it wouldn't be the last time." I said. "So, I'm angry because everything I've had to go through was for nothing. Wouldn't you be?"

"Alright, fine." He said, rolling his eyes as if the situation was annoying him. "That was my mistake. I shouldn't have phrased it like that."

"No, it's good you did. Your first words are always the sincerest. Least I have a better understanding of your true intentions."

"It was a slip of phrase."

"I don't believe you."

"No, you just don't _want_ to believe me."

"Pick one." I said with venom.

He didn't answer right away but leaned back on his hands in thought as he tried to sum me up with some stern calculating expression. All humor was entirely gone. There was no arrogance or bullying that I could find in his next words.

"I know you'll find this hard to believe, but I really am trying to understand you. Would you like to know something about me? Something about what I was like before all this shit went south?"

"No."

It hadn't been what he'd been expecting. He was expecting me to jump at the thought of know inga bit more about my foe, but I didn't. There was so little about his previous life that anyone knew about, after all; So, little he'd let anyone know about. Back home, there's this game that people played with walkers and with people. They'd point to one and imagine the sort of life a person may have led before the dead started walking. Some of the kids tried to play it once by using Saviors and had attempted it with Negan a few times. I'd listen in on the sort of predictions they made about him and had to scoff at the ideas.

"I'll bet he was a prison warden. That would explain why he's so intimidating and he can freak people out so easily."

"No way. Pro baseball player, or at least training for one. His dad was a convicted serial killer, so it's like in his DNA. He was just waiting for something to make him snap and go full psycho."

"I think he was the president of a biker club, that's why he wears that jacket and nothing bothers him."

I wanted to vomit by the stupid things they came up with. "Oh, _please_. He wasn't anything that warranted any fear or respect along those lines. I'll bet he was nothing more exciting than a Walmart associate—maybe a manager at the most. He unloaded the trucks at night. Negan wasn't even his real name back then. I'll bet it's something lame like Craig or Gary. The closest he ever got to world domination was playing Risk with his elderly mother and great aunt on Tuesdays in their nursing home."

That was what it often came down to when I entertained any sort of curiosity for his former life. He wasn't special, he was merely presented with a set of circumstances that allowed him to advance as far as he managed to. He triumphed because he was the biggest and the meanest in a big and mean world—not because he was skilled or prepped for it.

Besides which, the reason I didn't want to really know anything about him was because I already knew everything I wanted to about him:

He was a horrible person, he was my enemy, and that was enough for me. They say "know your enemy" but if I did that, I may have discovered something I did not want to know. Possibly something that might alter my very strict impression of him and make him seem less like the monster I knew him to be. In complete honesty, I _needed_ him to be that monster.

If he wasn't, how was I supposed to crush him when the time came?

After my prompt refusal of his question, without so much as needing to think about it, his brow went high up and he looked again as if I had slapped him in the face. It dropped down once more into a withering glower and he looked perturbed and angry.

"I asked if you—,"

"And I said no." I cut him off again. "No, I don't want to know anything about you. I already know all I want to know about you."

He glowered but decided to tell me anyways despite my insistence for ignorance. "I was a high school gym teacher. I dealt with angry kids all the fucking time. I dealt with weaklings and bullies and little sissy girlies. The ones who were picked on or dominated the school or did their best to stay the fuck out of everyone's way. I've seen the depressed emos who dyed their hair black and slit their wrists to feel something, the goths that roleplayed as witches and vampires, the helpful little volunteers who ran around signing up for every club in the world, I've seen the ones that stuff tiny nerds into lockers and the champions who came to save the day. I've seen it _all_ with kids… until I met you. And I really don't get you, but I would like us to make progress." He spoke through gritted teeth trying to maintain a calm composure.

From the sight of the bulging vein in his neck, staying patient was obviously becoming very, very difficult for him as he continued. "And the only way to do that is to cooperate."

I wanted to roll my eyes with the revelation. Of course _,_ his subject would be gym.

 _Those that can't do—teach, and those that can't teach—teach gym._

I wasn't fazed by the pathetic speech, nor did I really believe he was ever a teacher of anything; gym or not (the most useless subject there ever was). He had been a coach, not a counselor; he didn't know anything about kids in the least. His only job was to keep them from getting fat and his idea of doing that was probably to starve them the same way he had done us.

Yet even with that in mind, I sensed there was just the fractional bit of earnestness in his words. It wouldn't do for him to be more negotiable than me in any situation, so I attempted a similar respectful tone.

"Look…" I told him, slowly beginning to calm down while I tried to be honest. "I don't know what you want from me, alright. You bring me here and you give me all of these rules and you say you're going to do this and that to me and everything else. I don't know how you expected me to react. Did you really think I was just going to sit quietly and just take it all with no complaints? Is that what you really thought would happen after… after all this time? Just… **what** do you want from me?" I demanded, snapping my gaze towards him. "Tell me what you want because I really don't know."

"All I want you to do is behave and maybe stop treating this like it's some kind of death sentence."

"Then why does it sure feel like one? I'm stuck here and every second is a reminder than if I don't do everything you want then you're going to hurt me or hurt my people. As far as I know this _is_ a death sentence. I'm not allowed to be angry or be myself and that—it's suffocating is what it is!"

He looked at me then with a strange sort of calmness. "Alright. What do _you_ want then?"

I was a little stunned by that question because it was the first time he'd ever asked what I wanted or possibly even what someone else wanted in general. "I want to go home. I don't want to live here with you and I don't want to see you or any of your people ever again. That's what I want."

He looked angry but not surprised by my request. "Well, unfortunately for you, that's not about to happen."

"Well, then why bother asking?"

"Because I thought I'd be able to work out some sort of compromise, instead."

"What kind of compromise?" I demanded. "Is it just that you want me to behave or what? Because I'm really having a hard time with that, especially when I know that I'm being screwed over, or that I know you're killing _my_ people and trying to hide it."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, reminded of the time I had exploded at Eugene when he first arrived here and raved angrily about Olivia's death. "Who told you about whatshername? How did you know about that?"

"Does it even matter?!" I snapped. "If someone told me, what the hell were you planning on doing? Yank their tong out so they can't do it again?"

"If someone upsets you it's my business."

"You're the only one that upsets me!" I fired. "I'll always know when someone dies. _Always_!"

His thoughtful pause lasted only a second, but it was enough time for me to think that maybe I had revealed too much about my other talents. "I'm sorry about your friend. It was unfortunate but necessary to put them back in line."

" _Put them back in line_ ," I repeated distastefully. "It's always about putting them back in line. Saviors shouldn't need to force people to do anything. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't a savior bear the cross for the ones he saves? Or maybe I'm just talking out my ass about it. After all, I'm only a heathen pagan witch, so what on earth would I know about it?"

"Nothing!" Negan snapped furiously in answer. "You don't know shit about it. Sometimes people don't realize they need to be saved, but it is a bitter pill they will swallow, or they will die."

"—Because of you!" I finished with venom. "You don't seem to understand something; We never needed you! Not ever! And we still don't, but it seems pretty clear to me that you definitely need us! You take our stuff and don't do anything to deserve it. Admit it; you're just parasites! And now it's literal" To add force to the statement I extended my arm, bearing the scars around the veins where the needles had impaled me to draw out the blood.

Negan was galled to be reminded of that and his next statement came out as a growl. "Well these parasites do plenty to protect your people every day, but it sure seems to go unnoticed quite a lot. If you want evidence maybe I'll let a few of the hordes we've diverted find their way to Alexandria's gates. Then we can watch how many of your people are left after they run around trying to lure them away themselves."

"Then do it!" I challenged, without thinking. I couldn't stop the rebellious spiel that burst from my mouth. "We faced hordes before. A lot in fact. We know how they work. We know how to drive them off! You think you're special because you do what everyone from my town already learned to do BEFORE you were even a concept to us! You're not! You just do it easier because you took OUR weapons and OUR supplies! YOU left US vulnerable so you could feel like you're not completely unnecessary in this world!"

The backhand was almost expected. It connected hard against my face and the force threw me back against the chair, stunning me. My vision blurred so much that I hadn't realized Negan had risen from his seat on the bed till he walked to the door. My eyes focused on him as he made his way angrily to the other side.

"If you don't want to go to school—FINE!" He snarled, putting his hand on the door. He looked furious but still in control somehow, even while he shook with obvious rage. "Except for using the bathroom, you can stay in here until _**I**_ say you can come out, and unfortunately for you, I don't think I'll want to see you again for the rest of the month!"

With one last withering glare over his shoulder he slammed the door so hard one of the knickknacks from the shelves fell from its place and clattered on the floor, leaving behind a frightful hush in his wake.

I was left alone to stare at the closed entrance.

Slowly, the replay of our conversation began to sink in and a horrible feeling erupted in my mind.

 _What on earth did I just do?_

"Crap!" I hissed gripping my scalp in terror with both hands. _Why did I have to say that? What if he actually does send a herd back home?_ I moaned helplessly in my chair, bringing my knees up as I rocked in mortification. "What is wrong with me?!"

* * *

 **Author's notes: Well… Judith tried. You can't say she didn't try. But after hearing about what Negan did, her patience and tolerance has finally snapped entirely. She put up with their weird experiments and abuse and insults because she's decided to love her people more than hate them, but now that she knows they're getting nothing for all of the sacrifices she's made, she's had enough. Of course, her assertiveness doesn't come without consequences. You can't stand up for yourself and expect to get off lightly. Negan can't hurt her the same way he does everyone, but he can deprive her of the things that matter most to her; family and the outdoors mostly. The next chapter is going to be interesting to see how she'll cope with such a punishment.**

 **Thank you to SkippingThrough for the comment and in response to your questions:**

"Where do you learn all that stuff for Judith's magical practices? You seem very knowledgeable about it and I'm wondering how much research you have to do. Unless you practice it yourself?"

 **Thank you very much.**

 **I don't practice wiccan or pagan rituals myself, but I've done quite a bit of research on it by reading from books, searching on websites, and watching numerous movies, shows, and documentaries. I want to be as accurate as I possibly can with my stories, so studying is a big part of my writing process. What's nice about real witches is that they can actually develop their own spells over time, and what I've come to figure is that it's mostly a self-study process. So long as you have a general idea of channeling energies, symbolism, botany, and geology then most of it is self-explanatory. Of course, there are books you can find like Silver RavenWolf or Cassandra Eason.**

 **Not all spells work the same way for various people so you may need to develop the methods that work best for the individual. This is where a Book of Shadows comes in handy. Ultimately, it's a witch's personal journal or a recipe book and you can do whatever you want with it. Fill it with spells, pressed plants, poetry, recipes, reminders of the day, artwork, photos, stories, and just basically whatever you can think of.**


	51. Solitary Confinement

**Chapter 51  
Solitary Confinement**

Those days inside that room alone were the longest of my entire life. Meals were brought in frequent succession always by the same guard. She never stayed longer than it took for her to drop off the tray and then leave promptly. I was glad for it. The trip to the small community bathroom was just as brief and I only seemed to visit when it was empty. I wasn't sure if it was coincidence or they had planned it that way. At least I had a sink in the room, giving me unlimited access to water when I was thirsty and providing me with an area I could brush my teeth and wash my face.

I wasn't very committed to bathing all that much, even back home when I had better access to the house shower and tub, but even if I didn't wash my hair as much as my family prompted me to, I always tried to take obsessive care of my teeth. There were no dentists in any of the communities and my brother carried a certain sort of relish in terrifying me with stories about cavities and tooth decay.

"They're big holes you get in your teeth when you don't take care of them." He had told me when I was eight. "And they just get worse and worse and worse and you're overcome with horrible stabbing pain in your mouth all day long till you can't eat anything except apple sauce and oatmeal. If nothing is done about it, they rot right out of your head while you're sleeping. Other times the pain is so horrible you have to get someone to help you wrench it out to make the pain go away. Sometimes they tie a wire to the tooth then connect the other end to a big rock and drop it out a window. The force pops the tooth right out. Other times, if no one has a rock or a wire, they get some big plyers or a monkey wrench and pull the sucker out themselves. I hear it's the most painful thing in the world, besides kidney stones."

The revelation had terrified me so much, I had obsessively scrubbed my teeth clean every morning and evening since. I never ever wanted my teeth to rot out of my head and I took extra care to preserve the health of the visible bone at all times.

Having the sink in there was really just another reason to deny me outside contact of any kind. I knew I was a prisoner, but the lack of people to speak to, _trusted_ _living_ people that is, was overwhelming at times. Back home when either people were too busy or unwilling to spend time with me, I had learned how I could sometimes even be my own friend.

So, I was no stranger to exclusion and sometimes even rejection, but this was almost crippling. There was so much pent up aggression and frustration inside of me that I was almost desperate enough to turn to my guard for someone to alleviate a bit of that tension.

But I never did, choosing to hold her in the same resentment I did for everyone else who called themselves _Negan_.

We never spoke a word to each other before (that is if you don't count the apology I was forced to give her) but now I was clearly losing my mind and was almost aching for her to say something to me.

There were only brief occasional respites when the ghosts would visit me. Their visits were short and they never seemed to speak coherently for some reason, something I had gotten used to over the years. Most tended to ramble at times, usually about the way they died, others would appear only to disappear a moment later. Beth visited me once or twice to sing a song but that was all she had ever done, though. Sing songs, usually sad ones.

I thought maybe Merle might visit me again, but I hadn't seen him since the advice he had given me to make that deal to get what my town needed. I sort of wished he would come again, just for someone to talk to and maybe argue with for a while. He was one of the few that was actually capable of that sort of coherent conversation, which was very unexpected for a spirit that had only allowed me to see glimpses of him before. Maybe he'd tell me how to handle my new situation, but it looked like I was on my own for this one.

The few that had the ability and the insight to knit together full active conversations were so rare. I didn't see very many in fact and when they came, it was usually in my dreams, of which I could hardly remember come morning. For some reason, it almost felt like the ghosts knew I was supposed to be in solitude and were keeping their distance. The thought sparked resentment, and I blamed them for leaving me when I needed them more than ever now. On the other hand, there was another thought that worried me more for their prolonged absence. Maybe it was just as I had feared back when Carl, Michonne, and I were exploring D.C. and I conveyed my worries to my brother that I may have been growing out of that strange sixth sense.

My mother, who had once been the one to visit me more than all the others, had abruptly vanished from my life the very moment I asked her if it would be okay if I began to call Michonne "Mom" the same way Carl had begun to. When I turned back to see what she would say about it, she was gone and hadn't come back since then. It happened without any sort of warning but I figured that perhaps she had merely left to think about my request and would be back soon with an answer for me. But she hadn't.

She was just… gone.

"Mama," I whispered one night, after being awoken from another nightmare. I lied out under the bed, feeling better with the security of the tight space, yet still somehow vulnerable thanks to the violence fathomed from the dream. I hugged tight to the pillow, wishing it was someone from back home that would offer comfort and calm me down. My thoughts were towards my mother though and I wished in that moment, more than anything, that she was with me. If not to hold me then to at least talk and whisper encouragements to ease me from terror.

An over-powering feeling of guilt and sorrow plagued me just then and I spoke again into the night for her.

"Mom, I—I'm sorry, okay. I don't want Michonne as my mother! I want you! Okay? I—I'm sorry I asked to call her that. I really am! I just want you back! I just… I need you back, now. Please come back to me."

But she didn't come back. I didn't know why she was staying away from me, other than to think I had hurt her feelings to ask her something that seemed so disrespectful. I wanted to be sorry for it, and I thought I was, but in my heart Michonne was just as much my mother as Lori had been. So maybe she wouldn't come back because she knew my true feelings.

So, she stayed away, and I stayed in the cell.

Aside from crippling loneliness, it wasn't all bad. At least I had things to occupy my time like the books from the shelves and my things from home. Vanessa's Book of Shadows was a good distraction, but as much as I loved pouring over the beautiful scrapbook it still didn't prevent me from feeling completely caged. I needed sunlight and fresh air. The stupid band across the wall that served as my only window had no way that allowed me to open it, even if it was possible to reach it!

I didn't even go down to the infirmary for blood donations, something that stunned me to realize I would have endured with no objections if only for a small change of scenery.

No. I was confined exclusively to the room.

As an additional affect, my apatite was lost in solitary. I didn't eat much; I mean, I never ate much, but I consumed even less than I did before. Eventually, I lost track of the days and couldn't remember how many had managed to go by. There were days when I didn't even bother changing from the pajamas I wore.

I found myself longing for human contact of any kind. Any kind but Negan's, at least.

No matter what I felt, no matter how boring and empty it was, I couldn't bring myself to believe that his company would have been better than none at all.

I'd rather die of loneliness than bear his presence ever again, but I knew I'd have to face him eventually, especially with the plague of nightmares that consumed me almost constantly.

The fear that he would release an endless herd on Alexandria ate at me day and night, though night, while I was at the mercy of my own morbid imagination seemed to carry the most damage.

Why, oh why had I provoked him? What was wrong with me? Just because I had a Free of Infection via Walker Bite VIP card, didn't mean other people had that same privilege. I was the only one in the world that drew them from me unscathed, yet I was acting as if everyone were capable of that feat. How could I have been so blind? Once again, I was putting the people I loved in jeopardy because I was letting my pride take control.

"Oh god," I whispered to the dark, fear gnawing at my insides for the conclusion I had finally reached. "I have to apologize, don't I?"

I didn't need someone to confirm my worst fears. I knew they were true. As much as it detested me and as much as I reeled at the idea, confident in the believe that it wasn't ME who should have felt the pressure to swallow my pride in the first place.

I always seemed to be humbling myself to that monster, but he had never EVER even once said sorry to _me_! It was disgusting that he literally carried so much leverage that it alleviated him of all responsibility towards his actions. He had seriously HIT ME—MULTIPLE TIMES! He abused people, he used people, enslaved them and then murdered them. He was an abhorrent ogre of the worst kind, and yet it was still _ME_ who had to apologize. It was so unfair and I just about rejected the idea as easily as it had come to me, but I knew I couldn't refuse.

As much as I didn't want to, I knew I needed to apologize. For the sake of my people I had to drop to my knees and beg forgiveness to that animal. He had given me a month, so maybe he was still mulling it over. Perhaps he meant confining me to my room in a way to humble me towards him and even test to see how long it would take to admit my mistake.

Maybe if I put forth a sincere effort he would reconsider any decision he might have had to unleash anything drastic on my town. The only way to know for sure was to try.

When my guard came in the following morning, bearing a tray of porridge and fruit (which would probably go untouched for the most part), I turned towards her.

"I—I need to speak with Negan." I told her. My voice was surprisingly horse from lack of use and I was a little surprised by its rough sandy tone.

The woman looked at me, stunned to hear me speaking to her, much less acknowledging her in anyway. I had barely done either since she had been appointed to me.

"Negan said you're supposed to stay in here until he said you could come out." She announced firmly yet still a bit shook.

"But I want to… _apologize_ to him." I confided with difficulty, trying to appease to her. "Could you at least tell him that?"

She gave me a careful look, then nodded as she put the tray on the table and left.

I waited for her to return, nibbling only a little on the food and unable to stomach enough of what the doctor had specified as necessary. It was hours before she finally came back and in that time I had worked myself up into crippling anxiety. What if he didn't want to forgive me? What if he wouldn't accept my apology and decided to just go ahead and doom Alexandria? Or worse, what if he did accept it, but only after he smugly told me it was already too late, and he had done what I feared more than anything?

The thought that I would have known right away if he killed anyone from my town, was not comforting. The worst thing I could have imagined was finding the spirit of someone who I had last seen alive, looming suddenly in my room. Because it meant that I had indirectly caused their death and it was thanks to my backtalk and thoughtless provocation of Negan and the other Saviors that had resulted in the fatal end of their lives.

Finally, the door opened and the woman came in.

"I told him you wanted to apologize." She confirmed stoically, with almost no emotion at all. "He said you could see him in an hour."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was willing to let me say my part and an hour gave me time to get ready.

Any time before being here I would have just met him in my regular clothes, but I had been provided a wardrobe full of different outfits, most of which had still remained unworn.

It was an awful concept to know it would possibly end in a better outcome for me if I chose to look a little presentable. The dresses in the wardrobe were probably my best bet to win him over so I chose to wear a beige knitted one with long sleeves and a red flowery design embroidered on the hem, an outfit that went alright with the scarlet cloak I had to wear at all times outside. I added some black leggings and wore them with my boots.

It was a Sunday Best sort of outfit; one that was wildly out of character for me to be seen in. Negan's words during my first few days here came back to mind at the sight of me wearing it in the tall mirror by the wardrobe. His whole spiel about reinventing myself while he held me by the throat against the table seared into my memory, making me flinch. If the dresses were anything to go by, it seemed pretty obvious what sort of reinvention he had meant.

Something quiet, domestic and trained. Something that would complement him when I stood at his side, something that wouldn't fight him, something that would fall into step and obey him like every other sort of livestock in this place.

Anything I tried would only be a farce, though, simmering in quiet, building fury while I waited for my opportunity to execute my rebellion.

When the guard escorted me to his room, I mulled over how I intended to apologize. I had come to realize that the bulk of my anger and fury ignited most ferociously whenever I looked at him. So, it seemed if I kept my gaze away, even trained at some distant point off to the side of him and making his features out of focus and blurred, I may have been able to do this without arousing the furious wild revenge in me.

For my own life and everyone else's, I couldn't look at him while I did this, I'd lose my nerve if I had to see that face and no matter what I tried, no matter how hard I attempted to hold it in, if I saw any sign of a grin or smugness on him, I wouldn't be able to control the resentful little monster in me, I wouldn't be able to keep it from trying to bite him. If I didn't have to look at him then maybe I could pretend that I was apologizing to someone else, someone who truly did deserve an apology. Maybe I could pretend to apologize to the kids of my town instead, and that would at least rid me of the guilt for not treating them better when I had the chance.

He stood by the windows when I entered and I felt his gaze studying me while I faced him, my eyes glanced to the side instead of focused.

"What do you want?" He demanded, sounding annoyed.

I swallowed nervously.

"I'm, s-sorry," I struggled out. It was like pushing a boulder uphill, but once I had it over the edge the rest seemed to roll easily out at that point. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. It was out of line. I'm sorry for my behavior, too. I'll… do better. I'll try not to be so… impolite from now on."

There was a long pause as I kept my focus away from him. I wouldn't look at him. I just couldn't. No matter what, I couldn't let myself destroy this small bit of control I had. I couldn't even allow myself to look up and view his expression. If he wore a grin, the beast in me would want to bite and rip and snap and I couldn't let that happen.

Nothing had ever felt like agony until I met that endless silence. After years it felt like, Negan finally spoke. "I accept your apology," His announcement was devoid of all emotion, but the next part I unmistakably heard resented disgust, "now get back to your room until I tell you to come out again."

The words were like a slap in the face and the coldness prompted me to chance the smallest of glances towards him, but all I saw was his back was towards me, giving me the feeling that I was being brushed off.

I stood there, motionless and uncertain. I couldn't go back to the room, not yet. First, I had to know if he would send a horde back home. I had to know if my apology had done any good.

He glanced back behind him, realizing I was still standing there.

"I said you could go. Aren't you thrilled to leave already or was there something else you wanted?"

I swallowed nervously. "Are… did you send a horde to Alexandria?"

Only if someone who knew him well would have been able to detect the change in his expression by my question. He seemed emotionless about the inquiry, but I didn't miss the tightening in his jaw or the flash of angered unsurprise that crossed his brow.

"Oh, so I guess this visit isn't exactly warranted out of true apology but more so for fear I may do something drastic to that town?"

I flinched by his assessment but didn't attempt to deny it.

He chuckled darkly. "Even if you did mean it in the least, I don't think you're quite ready to come out of your room yet. If I can't trust you to behave properly around this factory then I can't allow you to run around free as a bird any more. All you do is embarrass me and I can't afford that right now."

My lips pressed tight and I felt a lump in my throat. "Am I just going to be locked up in there forever, then?" I hissed.

"Forever? I certainly hope not, but if necessary, then yes. You definitely will."

The revelation stunned me but he went on. "It's hardly even a punishment. You're living better than about ninety percent of the whole world right now. Most people would crawl like a dog to be given the perks you've got. You don't even realize how lucky you are."

"Weird." I muttered venomously. "I don't feel very lucky right now."

"Well maybe you should reexamine your condition." He said softly just barely away from sounding like a snarl. "You're relatively safe. You get three full meals every day (even if you do let most of it go to waste), and it's not like I left you in an empty room with nothing to do. You have distractions to occupy yourself, don't you? Though some would say you barely deserve that much. You've been nothing but a pain in my ass since the moment you got here."

"I never asked for any of this." I fired back in outrage, forgetting myself completely. "I never asked for that room, or those things, or any of the stuff you gave me. You just shoved me in a room and put things in there that you thought would occupy me so you wouldn't have to deal with me."

"Oh, but I still have to deal with you anyways, now don't I?" He responded in a hiss. "And right now, I've had enough to deal with. So, turn around and get your scrawny ass back to your room and stay there until I think you've learned your lesson enough to come out."

His stare looked hot enough to boil water on and sent a strange sort of terror running through me. Fearfully, I turned on my heal and retreated.

* * *

Back again in the room, I removed the useless formal clothing and got once more into the pajamas I had barely changed out of since my sentence of confinement had gone into effect. Turning to view my reflection in one of the mirrors I gazed at the person who looked back at me.

I never really gave much thought to how I looked. Vanity was something I might've internally rejected subconsciously, but even so, I stared at myself and my transformed state.

Curiously, my fingers twined around a loch of my hair. Michonne had said that it was honey blond, but I thought it resembled more like the color of tree sap or earwax. It wasn't the color of either my mom or dad's hair and I despised it the most about myself. I glanced at my physique and frowned. I _was_ skinny. Skinny and long. And puny, real puny. I looked pathetic. When I really considered it all, how could anyone really take me seriously with the way I was? Dad, Michonne and Carl commanded respect because they were strong and carried their strength in their faces.

But me...?

 _Pathetic_. I looked pathetic. It was dumb to think that I'd ever be granted the same level of respect people gave them. I should've just stopped trying, already.

The one thing about my appearance that I was actually fairly proud of, were my eyes. As cliché as that sounded I did actually approve of them. They were blue like Dad's and was the only piece of proof I had that told me I might've been his after all. Then again… there was that whisper of doubt in me that always turned to memories of a shadowy specter lingering in the dark late at night when I tried to get back to sleep.

After ten years, I had never before seen what Shane looked like. His face always remained hidden in shadow where it couldn't be seen; and that was how I liked it.

The whole confusion between who might have been my real father, actually stumped me. I didn't know how it worked exactly, how moms and dads actually became moms and dads, but I had picked up bits and pieces of what might go on with that sort of stuff like pregnancy and babies from multiple sources. Sometimes it was the subject of gossip between kids at school. There were different theories we all swapped between ourselves, most sounding outlandish and fictitious while others seemed just straight up gross. I only knew that there were things you sometimes got from your mom and things you sometimes got from your dad, but the whole concept of genetics really just escaped me.

Looking back at the reflection, I continued to study my appearance.

I had changed. There was no doubt that I had definitely changed.

Somehow, I remembered my skin looking so much tanner than this pale hue that had taken on my complexion. It was a result of spending days and days working outside under the hot sun. But I no longer went outside anymore. The window barely provided enough to sunshine to light the room, it definitely didn't grant me any chance of absorbing the necessary amount of vitamin D I could have used.

I even looked thinner than before, if that was possible. My meal portions were larger than anything I had been given prior to coming here, but I still somehow looked smaller.

I was already under-weight before, but now…

Frightened, I examined my wrists and my waistline, discovering how pronounce the outline of my bones had become. The clothes had been big on me to begin with, but now it felt like I swam in the material. My ribs could have been used for a xylophone if I had some mallets.

This was scary. Really scary. I looked like a completely different person and not in a good way.

This was what time at the Factory had done to me. I was barely the weight of a shadow. Negan was just going to keep me locked in this room forever and ever, sucking me dry until there was nothing left of me. I was never going to go outside or see my home or people or run in the woods or hunt or visit the island or anything ever again.

A hopelessness fell over me at the idea. My breathing came in great heaves and I trembled uncontrollably. I lost control of my body as I slid to the floor, kneeling and shivering in complete shock and terror.

Our exchange of words rang through my head just then.

" _Am I just going to be locked up in there forever, then?"_

" _Forever? I certainly hope not, but if necessary, then yes. You definitely will."_

I curled on the floor, folding into a ball as the terrifying idea pressed down on me from all sides.

What was I going to do? I couldn't stay in here forever. I couldn't. I wouldn't just die, I'd wither away. I was already withering away. I'd become worse than Daryl if I was locked up.

 _Stuck here? In this room? This place? Forever?_

I couldn't imagine such a life. Being called on for nothing but to be sucked empty for the rest of my life. To have more and more life being drained out of me till I was nothing but dry bones.

My breathing came in hurried panicked breaths heaving and shaking with terror. Despite the amount I sucked in, it somehow felt like I still wasn't getting as much as I needed. I couldn't seem to find air. Was this a panic attack? In the back of my mind I knew I needed to calm down but I couldn't.

 _Breathe…_ I tried to coax myself.

I just had to breathe…

Forcing myself out from my ball, I spread out on the floor and slowly sucked in a pained, deliberate breath.

 _Slow and steady._

I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. Working to calm myself despite the panic I just wanted to give in to.

I lied out on the floor, feeling the firm hardwood under my back while I continued to take in air at a decisive pace. I was going to be okay, I just had to maintain my breathing. In time I calmed down enough and became still, working myself out of my panicked state till I no longer had to think about my breathing. I was okay, I just had to keep my head above water.

I stayed there on the floor, feeling exhausted for the sudden attack and allowed myself to slip into a dreamless nap.


	52. Scrambled Thoughts

**Chapter 52  
** **Scrambled Thoughts**

A crash startled me immediately and my eyes snapped opened. Groggily, I sat up, squinting around the room and looking for where the noise had come from. One of the wives stood in the doorway staring down at where I was. When I moved in response to the noise, a physical look of relief overcame her features and she leaned against the doorframe, holding her heart where she had been shocked.

"Oh my god. I—I thought you were dead for a moment. When I saw you lying on the floor like that I was afraid you may have…"

I worked onto my elbows, propping myself up to look at the woman a little better and rub my eyes from the crust around them. "I'm not dead, I just… I think I may have… uh… passed out or something for a moment."

The woman looked concerned as she straightened. "I'll get the doctor."

"No. You don't need to." I told her, waving the suggestion off. "I'm just a little tired. Nothing more. I don't want to start a fuss."

She looked back at me, hovering in the door before finally abating. "Alright then."

I looked up at the wife and recognized her as the one called Sherry.

"Frankie or the guard usually checks up on me." I noted, getting up to sit at the table and face her at a better vantage point. "What are you doing here?"

"The guard needed a break and Frankie's with Negan, so they're a little busy right now." Sherry explained, simply. She didn't go into any more detail than that so I shrugged it off.

I really couldn't understand why Negan needed so many wives. What was so great about sex or fucking as he had mentioned before? I mean I had an abridged understanding of it; you got naked and you kissed a lot and then what? That seemed to be the basic mechanics of it from my point of view at least. I didn't think I was ever going to understand it.

"Alright." I sighed. My attention turned as she stooped down to gather together the remains of what appeared to be my lunch. Food and broken china was everywhere. Instinctively, I lowered from the chair.

"Let me help." I offered, kneeling down to assist.

Sherry only held up her hand, issuing me to stay right where I was. "No, no. Don't help me with this. There's sharp things and you don't need to be getting too close to this stuff."

My hands drew away and I stared back at her, knowing exactly what she was talking about and understanding just why she was refusing my help. She used plastic tray and took extra precaution to place each broken piece carefully on it before cleaning up the food.

I waited at the table, feeling stupid as well as useless while I sat there just watching. It made me uncomfortable when I wasn't allowed to do anything about a mess.

Eventually, Sherry had it all back on the tray and left promptly, holding it out in front of her. She was back not long after with a new plate piled high, this time with more durable plastic dishes.

"Alright, here's some new food for you." She set it down in front of me while she took the only other chair in the room. "I was told you haven't been eating as much as you should be, so you need to finish it all this time."

I grimaced but obediently began eating at her insistence. It was awkward sitting there while she monitored and made sure that I definitely consumed all of it. It was hard, but I did my best, managing to finish the majority of what she presented me with.

I couldn't stomach the cookie though and had to call it quits after the vegetables were all gone.

"They want you to finish the dessert." She reminded.

But I shook my head. "I'm full. I'll save it for later if I have to, but I just can't finish it, now." It was almost uncomfortable to be so full, especially when I was unused to satisfaction.

She looked on the verge of insisting more but finally decided to let it be.

"Alright then."

There was an awkward silence while she gathered up the dishes and turned to go. I got up from the table and went to curl up on the bed when her voice distracted me.

"Would you…" She hesitated, trying to find the right words while she stood there. "I'm not sure if you would like it, but you've been stuck in here for a week and a half now and I was wondering if there would be any chance you might like to play a game with me?"

I looked at her, stunned by the invitation but a lot more stunned by her announcement indicating how much time had passed.

"A week and a half?" I repeated quietly. "Is that all it's been?"

I was losing my grip on reality. I had never stayed inside for so long before. Not ever in my entire life. But somehow it had felt so much longer than that. So, so much longer. I was sentenced to stay here for another few weeks, but after barely ten days and I was already succumbing to insanity.

Sherry looked at a loss. "I… just thought you might enjoy some… company."

The suggestion made me pause while I considered it. I expected revulsion and anger to rise at the suggestion for the absurd assumption, but they did not. Instead, the most distinctive feeling that came to me was longing.

I thought I had made it abundantly clear that I wanted nothing to do with any of her kind; wives, Saviors and workers alike. Anyone and everyone behind these walls was definitely no friend of mine. I wasn't even about to tolerate the school children as potential acquaintances. Plus, she was a wife, to boot. Negan told me that all his wives were willing, and she had _willingly_ married him, and by extent must have agreed to the methods that had been subjected to both me, my uncle, and my people. She consorted with the devil on a daily basis and allowed him to move close and touch her with no objection.

If she was friends with him, she was most certainly no friend of mine.

That's what logic had told me.

But things had fogged my perception while I was alone in that room, and the necessity for companionship was so strong that, so long as it was no one that said they were Negan, I could not pass up an opportunity for interaction with anyone sane.

"I—I guess." I finally conceded.

She seemed pleased by the announcement and turned. "Okay, I'm just going to drop these off and I'll be right back."

She returned promptly with a few boxes in her hands and I recognized what appeared to be board games.

"Alright we've got Scrabble, Monopoly, Life, and Sorry."

 _Geeze_. All of them seemed sort of depressing and each individual reminded me of the events that had led to my unfortunate predicament. But I supposed the safest would have been the first.

"I like Scrabble okay." The game actually brought forth a particular sense of nostalgia as I remembered the wonderful individual that taught me it first. The same person that had taught me to love language and to love words. His image came to my mind just then and I focused on the memory of a tall dark outline framed by bright fallen snow.

Sherry nodded, selecting it from the pile and unboxing the pieces. "Scrabble it is then."

I took a stand and reached in to take seven letters when the bag was offered to me.

Sherry started it out, filling four spaces with a vertical "OATS".

I responded with "COALS" across from that.

The game continued that way back and forth while Sherry kept score on a notepad. She was a skilled enough opponent but I had the instruction of a better teacher under my belt and could easily match her wordplay.

While trading letters back and forth we started some light chitchat. It was nice—comforting even to have a conversation with someone that didn't result in shouting, for once. I didn't know a whole lot about this woman, but she was nice and it relieved some of the stress I had been feeling since my first arrival here. In the back of my mind I considered that maybe a few allies would be wise.

A strange quote somehow rang in my head just then; ' _Where do we find our allies_?'

' _Among our enemies, where else_?'

Where had I heard those words before? The image of kind yellow eyes looking back at me from the opposite end of a coffee table, filled my memory.

I looked over at the woman across from me. Could she be an ally?

Sherry talked about what she did before the epidemic and I told her a bit about traveling on the road with my family before we eventually arrived at Alexandria.

"I was a baby then so I don't remember much. The others sometimes tell me stories about it."

Sherry looked impressed, by the idea. "I don't know what I would have done with a baby on the road. I would have been scared shitless."

"Well my family are warriors." I boasted without restraint, implying on the difference between my people and hers. "Always have been always will be. That's just how we are. We take care of each other, so we're stronger than other groups, even if greedy lay-a-bouts steal everything we have."

The last words were spoken with venom and directed towards the visitor. In my anger I added a P, A, and Y to a diagonal BACK to create the word PAYBACK, illustrating just what I fantasized about almost constantly these days.

Sherry seemed to get uncomfortable with the thought and attempted to change the subject.

"Before everything… well happened, I was an elementary councilor and substitute teacher."

I forced a smile. "Oh… a teacher, huh?" I was a bit underwhelmed by the news. "That must have been… uh… nice."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "It had its moments."

I glanced back down at the words on the board, adding an S, T, R, A and W to her BERRY to spell out STRAWBERRY.

"You know Negan said he was a teacher." I announced.

Sherry paused by that revelation. "Really?"

"He said he was a gym teacher, from before."

"He told you that? He rarely ever talks about his former life."

"I told him I didn't want to know anything about what he _used_ to be like, but he told me anyways. I don't know if I believe him or not, but if he was, he obviously sucked at it." I muttered. "But I guess it doesn't matter now. No one is like how they used to be."

"No." Sherry whispered thoughtfully. "We really aren't."

There was a strained moment of more silence while we switched back and forth with our words.

BAIL

BOUND

PROOF

FOWLER

On and on it went, till there was at last no more letters we had left. Sherry tallied up the score and announced the winner.

"It looks like I won by about five points. But that was fun," The woman proclaimed. "I haven't enjoyed a game like that for a while. You're pretty skilled with words."

An uncommon moment of insanity must have overcome me as my mouth turned up with a fleeting smile. The praise was so nice to hear that I couldn't help myself and let it consume my starving need for affection.

"Do you want to play another?" She asked enthusiastically gathering up the pieces.

By her question, something occurred to me just then.

"A—are you allowed to be in here with me?" I wasn't sure if Negan meant this as a punishment I had to endure on my own or not.

Sherry only shrugged. "I know that you're supposed to be staying in your room, but Negan never said you couldn't have visitors."

"Visitors…" The only living visitors I had had so far was my guard and brief interactions with Frankie. Other than that, there wasn't anyone who had even attempted to see me. Or if they had I hadn't heard about it. I often thought about Daryl and wished I was allowed to at least see him every now and again, but I had scarcely seen a trace of him since the beating and I wasn't totally sure if that had been an accident or not.

If Negan was upholding his end of the deal then he should have been treated better like we had agreed on. But Negan wasn't honoring his other agreements so the chances that the quality of living for my uncle improving, was probably very slim.

Maybe it would be okay to ask about it.

"Is… is my uncle okay?" I asked tentatively. "Negan said he'd treat him better, but I haven't seen him for a while so I'm not sure if…"

"I know he got a cot in his room, now." Sherry conveyed. "He's gotten a few changes of clothes, too. They're washed every other week. He has better food now as well. There's not much variety, but it beats what he had before."

"What was he eating before?" I questioned, worried instantly for the quality of sustenance he had been forced to live on for the better part of three years.

Sherry looked a bit uncomfortable. "I heard he had canned dogfood most of the time."

"Dogfood!"

She nodded.

There were no words in me to properly convey my appall. My fists clenched tightly and I looked down at the table, shaking with anger and disgust for the revelation.

"I… I've tried to look out for him for the time he's been here." She said in a small voice. "It's been a challenge."

That took me off guard. " _You_? Why?" What reason did she have to look out for him? He was an Alexandrian and she was a Savior—a wife of Negan's. They were enemies—or supposed to be at least. Why did she feel any responsibility to look out for him?

"That's… that's a bit hard to explain." There was a look of shame that crossed her face with those words and my mind was instantly suspicious.

"Explain anyways."

She looked towards the commanding tone I used and began sheepishly, almost sadly.

"Well, I guess you could say Daryl tried to help us one time; that's to say me, my sister, and another person here. We were on the run and he tried to help us get away. He distracted the people who were after us. And then he still helped bury my sister when she was killed by walkers. He even offered to take us with him back to his people. But when we could, we betrayed him. Took his crossbow and his bike and left him in the forest. We were caught by the Saviors and told them who helped us and well… the rest is history."

With her story, several missing puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place just then. How Negan had known so much to find our town, especially after everyone had been so careful not to have been followed. It even explained his interest in my uncle, why he was singled out among everyone else during the ambush and dragged here to be a prisoner.

Sherry, _this woman_ , was the reason why we were all enslaved. Daryl tried to help her and her gratitude for his help was to drive a knife through his back. She was the reason he was here. She was the reason he had been imprisoned. She was the reason he was abused.

Her! All her!

"So, the reason Daryl is a prisoner, the reason all my people are under these bastards' thumbs, the reason I'm here in the first place… all that is because of _you_?"

Sherry's face flushed with embarrassment and guilt. She seemed to struggle with words as she opened her mouth to say something, maybe to defend or deny it.

Either way, I could no longer seem to stomach her presence. A wash of senseless disgust overpowered me and all I longed to do was grab the games and throw them at that bitch's head. Instead, a much more composed part of me stood and pointed to the door.

"Get out." I said firmly. The monster in me growled for blood and violence yet found some slight satisfaction in the stunned expression she held as response for my cold and commanding tone.

There was a small moment of silence between us before the woman sighed, collected the game boxes, and left.

The moment she was gone, I was met with the same overpowering loneliness I'd been feeling since the first moment of arriving at the factory, but I shoved it aside like always. Sherry's visit had reminded me of who I really was and _what_ these people were. She had seemed nice, friendly even, while I was conversing with her, starved for the need of companionship so much I discarded my beliefs for a fleeting moment of comfort.

I had been a fool!

She was an enemy-a traitor! She had stabbed Daryl in the back when it suited her and used the information she had gotten from him to sell out my people, my family, and me.

She was not an ally.

* * *

 ** _Author's notes: These two had originally been one chapter but they were so long that I had to split them up. So Negan's decided that if abuse and intimidation doesn't work on controlling this kid then some neglect and imprisonment should do the job, right?_**

 ** _Wrong!_**

 ** _She still refuses to take his crap, so even if he plans to keep her locked up forever she's going to find someway to get out. I'm excited to see what she plans to do next update._**

 ** _In the meantime, I've been keeping up with updates about the new game coming out with Clementine, and was sort of disappointed to hear that it takes place mostly in a School with a bunch of kids, because I had plans for a scenario similar to EXACTLY that later on in this story. It's definitely not going to be what they makers are intending to do, but still. Now it's like I'm just copying them when I swear I made plans about this, like, a year ago before I even heard of the plot for the game._**

 ** _I want to use as much references from the Walking Dead mythos as I possibly can, but the scenarios are probably going to be pretty different. So for everyone who keeps up with this story till we reach those chapters, please know that I planned this eons ago and didn't steal the idea from the game then decided to just changed things around to satisfy myself._**

 ** _Thank you for all your lovely encouragements and don't forget to leave a review._**

 ** _Luv ya lots!_**


	53. A Walk and a Talk

**Chapter 53  
A Walk and a Talk**

The days blurred together. I lost track of how many flew by and I had no idea what was going on in the factory anymore. Every once in a while, I was alerted by movement outside, but it was usually just Frankie or my guard dropping off a meal before leaving promptly.

Once or twice, I rearranged the furniture in the room, just to do something different for a while and to get a bit of exercise. By what I assumed was about the fourteenth day of confinement, I had exhausted all the reading material and the few G-rated movies that were in the room. Additionally, I had read and reread almost every page in Vanessa's book of Shadows. A few of the spells I attempted to perform, yet like the ghosts, there seemed to be no reaction from the magic I had once wielded.

A lot of the spells were written in code or runes I hadn't learned yet. Trying to encrypt them proved completely unsuccessful and the ones that I could perform offered no results.

Maybe I wasn't growing out of my powers; maybe I was just losing them.

There was no denial that I was so much weaker than I used to be. When I was freer, I had been sustained by nature and gem energy. Even the energy I gained from the people I was surrounded by played some part in the magic I honed. And now… now I had nothing. Only a pit of despair.

Most days I just wanted to give up; I thought I was going to. It certainly felt like I had.

Negan was just going to keep me shut up forever until I died.

That was my initial thought most days, until one morning I woke up with an unexpected burst of energy.

No, I wasn't going to just waste away in here! I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life just rotting like that asshole wanted me to. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I even thinking? What on earth would make me just give up like this?

No! No, I was stronger than that! I was better than that!

Throwing the blankets off of me, I got up, and dressed in a casual shirt and shorts; my typical attire.

Negan wasn't important enough in my life to make me care what he thought of me. He didn't mean anything! I wasn't going to let him control my life like this. It was high time I got off of my ass and started doing something!

Looking around my room, I examined the door. I hadn't touched it in weeks. The only times I ventured beyond it was when the guard came by to escort me to the bathroom. Predictably, there was probably someone on the other side.

That wouldn't do.

The window then.

The long band stretching across the furthest wall was large, but too high for me to reach without help. A chair then! But even that wasn't tall enough. So, I grabbed some books and used them for a footstep while I worked up on my stomach atop the wardrobe. From there I had my first glimpse outside in weeks.

It looked like I had a nice view of the courtyard behind the main building and even more property that compiled the factory. It looked like there was a whole lot the main entrance seemed to hide and what I had initially assumed were the boundaries, hadn't even brushed the full size of this place. There were garages, additional warehouses, walled off areas that seemed to grow fields of crops, and sheds holding animals.

It was almost larger than our whole town and by the number of things being raised here, it stood to reason that all this it should have been enough to maintain the whole factory population.

Why the hell did they need to steal from other people if they were growing their own shit? _Fucking assholes_!

My attention turned just then towards movement. It was a convoy coming back from another raid. I watched, practically transfixed at the sight of the outside and all the small people below. It was nothing I hadn't seen before, but watching it all after so long with nothing to view was like watching a movie I had been desperate to see for so long.

I recognized the man leading it all as Gavin, another of Negan's generals but someone we rarely ever came in contact with. It looked like they were returning from the Kingdom with their stolen loot and the majority of their tribute were some crates of fruit and dead pigs.

The Saviors busied themselves with distributing it and when the trucks were empty they rolled out to garages and the activity below dispersed to a few lone stragglers. My eyes squinted curiously, wondering if maybe I'd be able to study the habits of these few people and distinguish a pattern.

If I could do that, then maybe there would be an opportunity to run when I had the chance.

 _Run?_

The idea took me aback.

Was I thinking of making a break for it then? Of getting so permanently far away? What about the deal?

I glowered angrily. Negan wasn't holding up his end, why on earth did I need to hold up mine? All he'd done since I got there was treat me like total crap.

I wasn't going to take this anymore. I was going to take control. I was going to stand up. I was going to be strong again.

And the first thing I needed was some information. Even if all I could do was watch, at least it was a start.

* * *

I passed the next few days staring out the window, studying the people down below and taking notes on their habits around the factory. The guard rotations were something that _really_ interested me. I began to notice that not all of them were very punctual. A fair good deal of them were pretty honorable to their required shifts, but there were a few that felt no urge to uphold their scheduled rotations.

It was funny to watch at times. The ones that were punctual tended to get angry at the late ones, and at times there were arguments that broke out, once even a full-blown fist fight that I could witness from my window.

It had been nice to watch them fighting each other. Hilarious in a way. Maybe there was a way to crumble this tower from the inside out.

During a moment when I had been taking excessive notes on the changes I could see outside, I jumped when the door swung opened suddenly. Hastily, I shoved the pen and notebook behind the curtain of the window and tried to look a bit less guilty for being on top of the wardrobe, with little luck. Blankly, I looked back at the guard that had been assigned to me while she stared right back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing up there?!" She demanded angrily.

"I'm looking outside!" I snapped back. "You people gave me a room with a window I'm too short to look out of and it's really annoying!"

"Well get the hell down from there!"

Angrily, I obeyed, leaving my notebook where it was hidden. While I climbed from my spot, I wondered what this visit was for. It was too early for my trip to the bathroom and Frankie just delivered my lunch, still on the table and hardly touched again today.

"Get dressed!" The guard ordered.

"Why?" I asked indignantly. My punishment wasn't up. I knew for a fact that it hadn't been a month yet. So, why were they taking me out early?

"The doctor needs you."

"What for? Someone got bit?" Maybe it was Negan! If that was the case I'd take my time.

"Just hurry your ass up and get something. You've got thirty seconds. Not done by then, I'm bringing you down as you are."

 _So much for stalling._

I grabbed the first clothes I saw, changing out of the pajamas I wore almost constantly, and pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt. We'd just about made it out the door before the guard backtracked into the room, remembering something just then. Grabbing the scarlet cloak from the corner it was discarded, she threw it over to where I caught it. Grumpily, I put the thing on and we left.

It felt odd to be out of the room. Odd to walk around and be seen by people once again. I felt their eyes on me as I walked behind the woman and shrunk in my shoes. I hated this. I thought I had wanted to be out of the room, but now that I was, I felt claustrophobic and embarrassed. Why did I have to wear this thing? This cloak that pointed me out to everyone and was just as much a mark of shame as it was a collar.

As much as I wanted to walk with my head held high, I instinctually felt myself shrinking up to avoid anyone's gaze.

When we finally made it to the infirmary I breathed in relief to be behind closed doors once again.

There were three saviors in different beds all with wounds that I recognized as walker bites. The doctor merely pointed to my usual bed the moment he saw me, already prepared with the blood machine. Silently, I took my place and spread out on the surface, offering my arm.

The doctor had to do a doubletake as his eyes fell on how thin I'd gotten over the past few weeks.

"What the hell?"

Despite his shock, he still inserted the needle while simultaneously doing a hasty check up on me. First thing he did was weigh me and the results apparently appalled him to gasp before he moved on to the rest. I didn't bother fighting it and allowed him to examine me with his usual array of tools, shining the flashlight in my eyes and ears, knocking his reflex hammer against my joints, listening to my heartbeat, and making me say "Ahh" while he examined my mouth.

The session was not long and in hardly fifteen minutes, I was entirely drained. The doctor looked back at my weakened expression and turned to my guard accusingly.

"She's already _this_ tired? And she's lost weight again! The time in her room was supposed to build her body mass a little but it looks like she's barely over fifty pounds. Haven't you been making sure she eats?"

"Look, it's not my job to shove food down her throat." The woman said defensively. "I just bring it to her and stand outside to make sure she's not kidnapped or tries to run away. The rest is up to Frankie, so take it up with her.

The doctor shook his head angrily. "And I'll bet you let her wallow in depression, too, no doubt. Jesus, now I have to start all over again!"

The guard looked indignant about the direction of his anger and puffed up to her full height. "Hey, it's not my problem if some little brat wants to starve herself."

The doctor's reaction was far from understanding. He stepped right up to her, getting in her face and looking mad with fury as he spoke dangerously.

"Oh yes it fucking is your problem. This is our one shot at this. This is the blood that saves your fucking life if you ever find yourself bit out there, and since this job is too complicated for you to do correctly, I guess you'll need something a little simpler from now on." He straightened his coat and took a step towards his desk, where he made a note on some paper. "You did better out on the runs with Marco, so I'll have a little talk with Negan and see that you're transferred maybe time at an outpost will do better for you. It shouldn't be hard for us to find someone else more qualified for this position anyways."

The woman looked like she'd been slapped, and clearly disliked the way this had turned out for her. She proceeded to flush with fury though she made no argument to save herself. It looked like if it was decided by the doctor, then it was just the same as being said by Negan and no amount of negotiations were going to change his mind. The woman turned on her heal and headed for the door without another word.

Before leaving, the doctor called to her back, "Oh, and when you find him, tell Negan this isolation shit is over already. The work I'm in the middle of is more important that his fucking pride. If she's going to be difficult, he can vent his frustrations out on that hillbilly whipping boy we've got for her. But the abuse on her is over once and for all."

The woman made a low growl and left through the door without so much as a glance back. The doctor merely turned back to me, making more notes on his ever-present clipboard. "I take it from your lack of verbal objection that you don't mind being reassigned a new guard?" though he made no glance towards me, it was clear I was the one he was speaking to. "I hope you weren't too attached to her."

I only snorted. "Like it makes any difference. You're all the same person to me, you just wear different faces. Right, _Negan_?"

The doctor appeared undisturbed by the comment and only made another note on his clipboard. "Well your energy is returning at least. Here. Eat something already. I don't want to see you passing out. Do it yourself so I don't have them shoved down your throat." He pushed a plate of honey glazed cookies and cider towards me. Grudgingly, I began to nibble on them, hating that they tasted good.

* * *

Eventually, I found myself snoring lightly on the cushioned exam table before being jolted awake.

I yawned and gazed blearily around the dimly lit room. The men on the surrounding beds were sound asleep, two with sheets of sweat on their faces. The doctor wasn't able to take a whole lot of plasma from me, conscious that draining me dry would be just as lethal to me as their bites were to them so perhaps he had withheld the healthy amount from them.

I looked over at them apathetically, hopeful that they _would_ die. Three less men on their side, three more for the horde.

My eyes drifted to some cuffs connecting the bed frames to their wrists, a precaution just in case my hopes were granted. Heart monitors beside them beeped away, kindly indicating their maintained lives while they slept fitfully. It looked like the doctor was taking no chances with them.

 _Pity_.

I got up from the exam table and stretched, feeling better to be out of that god-awful room, at last. At that moment, I also noticed I really needed to pee.

Was there a bathroom on this level? The only two I'd ever seen were the wives' and the empty public one my guard, or ex-guard, had brought me to during my imprisonment.

I didn't expect there to be only two bathrooms in this massive factory so there was probably one that should have been nearby. Should I wait for someone to take me? Where was the doctor at this hour? Ah hell, I'd find it myself. Couldn't be far and if the Doctor's orders had any merit to them, it looked like my days of imprisonment were over at last.

I stole out of the room and wandered a bit through the empty halls till I came across a sign that told me what I was looking for. Once done with my business, I left the room, but on the way back I got lost. Somewhere around the bend I mistook a door I thought would open back into the infirmary for one that took me outside. Without intent, I found myself blinking in bright moonlight. A chill breeze blew in my face and I stared in awe at the darkness surrounding me.

For a moment I forgot how to breathe. I was outside! After weeks and weeks, I could breathe fresh air once again, and it was spectacular.

My feet took me all the way into the courtyard, pulled deeper into the night like listening to a siren's song. _Gods around me, I missed this_! It felt like I had just been jolted with a new burst of energy while I stood there in the dark and surrounded by actual fresh air. But it wasn't all that fresh. There was still the scent of death brought on by the aroma of the dead bodies suspended against the fences.

Just then, I took in the loneliness of the night. Where was the guard for this part of the factory? I looked up, spotting a long band of glass above that look fairly similar to the window from that bedroom I stayed in. Was this then the courtyard I had been looking down on for the past few days?

I turned around in the middle of the yard, facing where the guard was expected to be for his rotation. But he wasn't there.

Now I remembered this one. He didn't act particularly serious about his patrols, nor his punctuality for them.

He was late, again.

My heart stopped just then. A momentary bolt of madness overtook me just then as a impulsive thought came to me. What if the doctor couldn't convince Negan that I shouldn't be locked up again? What if he just makes everything worse and I'm punished even more?

This… this was my only chance! I couldn't go back to the room again. I couldn't be locked up again. I couldn't!

Spinning around towards the fence, my heart leapt into my throat while I sprinted. Climbing anything—tree, iron gate or chain-linked fence was child's play for me. I was up it in hardly three seconds. The few bound dead that had me within arm's reach parted and dodged away the moment I had touched ground.

I looked forward and swerved around the obstacles till I broke free from the moat. My feet sped me into the forest, feeling instant elation within the undercover of foliage and the sweet smell of the trees just before they turned for the fall.

My heart pounded in my throat and I swallowed hard, wetting my mouth as I sprinted in the forest. I passed several walkers in my haste and a few jerked away from me, but I just kept my eyes forward, concentrating on the path laid out. I needed to get as much distance between me and the Sanctuary as I possibly could.

I wasn't going back this time! I wouldn't! They couldn't make me!

But where was I going to go then?

Alexandria was out of the question. Hilltop and the Kingdom both knew who I was but they more than likely wouldn't take me in. Negan would have made sure of it. My only option was the Island.

Dad could visit me and he could take turns with Enid on bringing me what I needed. But was that much better? I'd be a prisoner there too. I'd never be allowed to leave, I'd just turn into a hermit the same way Carol had done. Was it even fair to put that much responsibility on them? What if they were followed one day? Even if I could stay there for my whole life, it was so close to Alexandria, eventually the Saviors would find it and loot the place just as they did with all the land surrounding their domain. And I'd be back to where I started.

My mind searched for alternative options. Many came to mind, but they all ended with me living alone as an outcast one way or another, or running so far away I'd never see the Saviors or even anyone I ever grew up with ever, ever again.

I gradually slowed to a stop, panting hard as I tried to catch my breath. My vision was blurry and my heart pounded like a base drum in my ears. I swallowed repeatedly, fruitlessly trying to get rid of the dryness in my mouth, but every breath felt like sandpaper scraping down my raw throat.

Eventually, I crouched where I was, bringing my knees up as I tried to calm down. Slowly… slowly, I began to realize it was all pointless and I questioned angrily on what I had intended in the first place.

The hope of running away and hiding forever was all pointless. I knew deep down that none of that mattered. Daryl was still back at the Sanctuary, being abused and tormented. For this escape Negan would take it out on him in whatever way he wanted to. And when he was bored of that he'd turn to Alexandria and punish any other innocent citizens he wanted. Every minute I was away was another minute Daryl was probably being tortured by those monsters even more.

Maybe if I turned around now and went back of my own volition he'd go easy this time. Maybe he'd just bruise me up a bit and lock me in my room for a few more days, despite what the doctor had ordered. But even that mild punishment filled me with new terror. He only let me out to save those men that were bitten, but the moment they improved he'd throw me right back into my room, again. He was the one in charge, not Dr. Carson. If he wanted to imprison me for the rest of my life, he was able to. I didn't think I'd have the strength to be trapped in there for another second. It was too much to bear!

And I didn't think I could stand anymore abuse from him, whether physical, verbal or emotional. That was the whole reason I had run away in the first place. I just didn't know if I had the courage to go back.

 _Stupid._ I jaded myself inwardly. _What'll you do? You can't go home, he'll find you there. You can try hiding but he'll just hurt people till you come out. He'll hurt the ones you love the most, too._

 _Daryl…_

 _Stupid, selfish, little girl! You think you've got it bad. Your uncle's been stuck there for three years, being tortured, starved, neglected and brainwashed. You don't know what bad is. You're so selfish! You're so blind!_

Right then, I understood what my only option could ever be. With a heavy heart, I picked my sorry ass up and turned on the spot, trudging back towards where I came.

I hadn't run for very long yet was still was surprised by how far I had gotten. When the black outline of the towers to the Factory came into view over the tree tops, I just about lost all nerve and turned to run away once again. I must not have been gone as long as I thought, though, because it was somehow strangely quiet. A small flicker of hope woke inside me as I held out that maybe no one had noticed I was gone after all.

The climb up the fence seemed to be much harder this time than when I'd done it to get out, not because of the bodies, but because the brief burst of energy I had gained when the night air hit me was beginning to wear off and it was agony returning to this hellhole moments after I had just about been freed of it.

Hopefully, sneaking back to the infirmary wouldn't take too long.

"Realized your leash doesn't go very far, huh?"

Spinning around, my instincts were on high alert as I saw someone coming out of the shadows and approach me. It was only mildly better to see Dwight standing there rather than Simon or Negan himself. He was better than either of those two, but he was still one of Negan's top men and I shook where I was, fearing whatever he was about to do in retaliation to my mad dash.

He materialized from the black void, frowning and puffing on a cigarette. I gulped down a large wad of fear as I took in the burned half of his face and how it looked that much more disfigured and harrowing in the darkness.

"You—you saw me leave?!" I stuttered, feeling panicked once again.

"Sure did."

I took in the quietness of the night and wondered why there wasn't a larger commotion, if what he'd said was actually true. "Why didn't you raise the alarm and come after me?"

He took a drag of the stick in his mouth and blew out a thin trail of smoke while he responded coolly. "Didn't think you'd be able to make it that far on your little legs. And I was curious to see how long you were going to run until you wised up and came back here."

It was galling to know that he was just as aware of my situation as I was. He knew even better than me that running would be completely useless, not to mention dangerous for so many different reasons. My head bowed in defeat as the man continued.

"I was a little worried at first. But you're much smarter than many people give you credit. If you ran and didn't look back, Negan would have hunted you down to the ends of the Earth. And when he found you again, he'd make you wish you were dead, if you don't already at least, but not before everyone you ever cared about was swinging on their own noose one by one outside your window."

I couldn't stop from flinching at the image. Seeing all the people I knew, dead-eyed gnashing teeth and lifeless faces hanging by ropes as they reached out in hunger for anything or anyone to devour, was far too painful to bear.

My mouth went dry and I trembled as I asked my next question to the man. "Are… are you going to tell Negan that I ran?"

There was a long pause as Dwight took another drag of his cigarette. "Nah… what would be the point, really? Especially if you're back here to begin with? Sides which, Negan would probably be more pissed off that I didn't raise the alarm the very fucking moment you cleared the tree line. I'd have my ass handed to me just as much as you would."

"So, what?" I scoffed in disbelief. "This is our secret then?" I wasn't quite sure why, but I disliked having mutual secrets between Saviors, but if there was no way either of us would benefit from exposure, then it was probably best to just keep it quiet.

He shrugged. "If you want it to be. It's really up to you, I guess."

Pretending like I had a choice was crap. Of course, I wasn't going to tell him! I wasn't an idiot.

"Screw him!" I hissed.

He nodded, sticking his cigarette once more between his lips. "That's what I thought, you'd say." Then he reached out to turn me around. "Now come on. I'll walk you to your room."

"Don't touch me!" I snapped angrily, stepping away from his outstretched hand before it made contact with my shoulder. "I'll get there by myself!" I left him there alone and headed for an entrance, marching away to find the infirmary.

It had hurt me to come back here. It hurt to be behind these walls once again. Not hurt in my heart, _oh woe is me_ , it hurt me _physically_ to be there. I felt actual pain while I walked within this prison. It had been so brief, but I had been outside. I had felt the air and smelt trees and leaves and water and dirt and all kinds of other things. It had been an explosion of senses. To see the stars twinkling above me. To hear the sounds of the nocturnal animals like owls and bats screeching in the night. Even seeing the walkers swaying in their lifeless strolls had been liberating. All I had wanted to do was dive right into the trees, roll around on the ground and then curl up somewhere, blanketed by shrubbery and fallen leaves.

And the wind. Feeling it cool my burning face while I ran and ran, had been glorious. Even through my desperation, it had totally been worth it.

The infirmary eventually opened up to me and I entered silently watching just as the doctor was pulling away an icepick, stained red, from one of the men's heads.

There were now only two steady monitors beeping away. Well at least one of them had kicked it. I inwardly crossed my fingers that another wouldn't see the dawn.

"And where did you run off to?" Dr. Carson inquired at my entrance.

"I had to pee." I told him bluntly. "And I got lost on the way back. Found a door outside and I went for a walk."

"And now your back."

"Apparently." I grumbled, my fists shoving into my jean pockets while I walked towards the exam table I had occupied before my brief respite.

The doctor came forward and pushed more food in my hands once I was seated. This time lentil soup with some bits of ham and a biscuit.

"Eat it all." He demanded.

I didn't fight it, but that didn't make it easier to do. Having a full stomach just didn't feel right somehow. How could someone hate being satisfied?

The doctor turned back to the men in the beds.

"You must be pleased with yourself." He noted casually, scribbling more notes on his clipboard.

I swallowed up the food in my mouth before responding. "Why do you say that?"

"One of these men just died. Wasn't that your intention?"

"I didn't kill them." I shrugged, unaffected by the idea.

"No, but you did want them dead, no?"

"…What I want wasn't what killed them."

"No, he died from extended exposer to biter infection and no access to the required dose of curative plasma."

"How is that my fault?" I asked, glaring at the man's back.

"You're refusing to take proper care of yourself." He accused with disapproval. "And that happens to affect others, which I'm sure you knew. In this case, I wasn't able to extract the proper amount to save these men. Unfortunately, I was forced to make a decision; I could have divvied up the pathetic amount of plasma I was able to extract and let them all die with only the bare minimum of plasma, or I had to prioritize one over the others and choose between them who was going to be saved. Guess which one I had to do."

I didn't bother answering. I knew what he chose. His mission was to make me feel guilty for it, but I wasn't; not one bit.

"Well if this is the only way I can kill you monsters, this is the way I'll do it." "I said to him vindictively, not even denying the doctor's suspicions. "Maybe next time you all should be more careful."

The doctor's fist came down on the side table, making me jump as he was suddenly right by my bed, angry now.

"This is no joke!"

"I wasn't joking." I fired back at him. "I know war isn't a joke and if this is the only way I can fight you people then this is how I'll fight! I don't get why you would ever think I'd try to save any of your lives after what you did to the lives of all the other people you enslaved or murdered in cold blood. Men and boys who were totally unarmed while their sisters, mothers, and wives were forced to watch you people gun them down on their knees. And those weren't even people that I knew! You're all cowards, and you deserve to die alone and forgotten! So, I'm going to do my part to help along the way, however I can!"

The doctor stared back at me, his expression veiled by the glare of light on his glasses, so I continued just as viciously.

"Stop trying to make me feel guilty for the lives that die behind these walls." I hissed at him. "They're all just another piece of Negan and everyone with that name that dies is one more piece of him I don't ever have to look at again."

The doctor remained silent for a moment before turning and rolling his chair over, taking a seat while he faced me. "Not everyone here believes in what he stands for." The man informed calmly. "Some of us have no choice. Just like you and the rest of your people. We're not here because we wanted to be. A lot of us don't have a say in anything that goes on here."

"You support them." I pointed out angrily. "You provide for them. You fucking heal them!"

"And if I didn't then I'd be no use otherwise. If I didn't do my job, they'd kill me. Easy as that. There's no other option for a lot of us. We don't have the luxury of picking ourselves up and just leaving it all behind, which you know perfectly well. A lot of us don't have the survival skills necessary to last more than a week out there and we don't have magic blood that keeps lurkers from attacking us. Here they give us a job and we have a choice to do it, or we guard the grounds as one of those dead sentries. We're not irreplaceable, not like you."

My mouth flattened into a tight angry line while he went on.

"It's a good idea not to make friends in this place." He commended without emotion. "They'd just end up stabbing you in the back when the time suited them. But we all still have a quota to make. I save their lives to save my own. If I didn't work my absolute hardest to achieve that, they'd know. How long do you think I'd last here once they figured that out?"

Again, I refused to respond to his question, both of us already knowing the answer anyways.

"You want to fight them at every turn, I understand that. Hell, I can even admire it. I know you don't value your life the way you ought to, but consider what could be done to your uncle." His voice somehow changed and took on a strangely dark tone. "I don't like making threats, that's Negan's job after all, but if you need to be carefully monitored from now on, then fine. Any meal you don't eat is another meal I'll personally make sure Daryl doesn't receive. And that'll make things a lot worse for him since he needs every bit of food he's given for the workload they've got him on."

The doctor stood just then, the glare from his glasses leaving as he looked down on me crossly. "So, finish your food from now on."

With those final words he turned his back on me and walked over to the men's beds.

Glaring down at the bowl of half-eaten soup, I considered it angrily before reluctantly pushing another spoonful into my mouth.

* * *

 ** _Author's notes: Woah! It has been so long since I updated. I've been a little busy for the past few weeks with the Farmer's Market in my town, so I haven't had a whole lot of time to write. I've been running a little booth selling and commissioning painted rocks and it's been going very well. I've had to stop though, because I'm starting a new job in a few days and I had to make sure I was available for any hours they needed me for._**

 ** _So not too much going on with Judy, but the doctor has apparently revealed himself to be an adversary almost as fierce as Negan. Judith is going to have to be extra cautious around him now._**

 ** _Not much left for me to say now so I guess I'll go ahead and say, adieux!_**

 ** _Luv ya guys lots and please don't forget to leave a review!_**


	54. Proposal and Debate

**Chapter 54  
Proposal and Debate**

With the doctor's insistence, my sentence of confinement was over and I was let out of the room at last.

I didn't hear a word about it from Negan himself, in fact I barely saw a trace of him even after it had gone into effect. It was almost like he had vanished. Of course, that was more than I could hope for. Every once in a while, I caught brief glimpses of him around the factory. The longest was when I'd been hanging around in the market, watching the people go by with no intention of doing really anything other than killing time till the doctor wanted me back at the infirmary.

I was taken off guard when everyone dropped to their knees suddenly. Gazing up blankly, I looked to see Negan leaning against the rails of one of the long catwalks overlooking the area, staring down at everyone like he owned them. I only glared and blatantly faced him in challenge, refusing to submit. We locked eyes and I saw the glower that graced his face at the sight of the defiance, but he said nothing about it.

The exchange had lasted only about ten seconds before he lowly told everyone to "Return as they were."

I didn't even hear from him about it later. It was like he was purposefully refusing to be anywhere near me.

I gotta say, if that was the case, I was totally fine with it.

It didn't last, though. A few days later I was told he wanted to see me in his room for dinner again. I groaned at the announcement given to me by my new guard, a woman with wavy black hair and a large hooked nose. She looked like the female version of Severus Snape and was no friendlier than him. Well I suppose slightly friendlier since she rarely spoke really, the same as my last guard had done.

I welcomed the silence.

* * *

I met him in his room, wearing the cloak but dressed casually underneath. I was tired of putting up an effort for him so I decided to just do the bare minimum from now on. Negan didn't seem to care that I had underdressed for this meeting, he had really only specified that he wanted me to wear the cloak at all times. Dressing up seemed like an unnecessary effort.

There was another heaping dinner again with him. This time stroganoff with bits of lamb or goat in it, snap peas, and cheesy potatoes.

Over the days following my talk with the doctor I had worked harder to finish the meals I was given, but I was having abundant trouble with it. My portions were usually piled uncomfortably high and it was a massive effort to finish them. Some days they gave me so much that I had to lie down on the floor and hold my stomach, hoping dearly that I wasn't going to throw it all up.

I shouldn't have hated being full, but I did. I hated the feeling of eating enough. After years of settling for the bare minimum I was able to live off of and now I had to find a way to be comfortable with fulfillment.

I took my seat to his right once he lowered into the chair at the head.

"So, how have you been lately?" he asked casually.

"Fine."

"Up to anything interesting lately?"

"No."

"Since you don't go to school, you've got an awful lot of time on your hands." He said with a note of disparage. "How do you usually spend it?"

"Just doing stuff?" I answered vaguely.

"Like what?"

"Just stuff."

I saw his jaw clench with clear frustration. Apparently, I wasn't cooperating the way he wanted me to, but he'd try and find a way around that somehow. "Walk around a lot I hear."

My heart stopped by that. Did he know about my close escape a few days ago?

I merely shrugged, playing it off casually.

"Go anywhere interesting?"

"No." All the interesting places were usually guarded, save for that small moment that let me slip away in the first place.

I once tried to enter the barracks to see if Daryl was alright, but I never made it passed the two Saviors that were hanging around the halls. In truth, I never even tried to approach them, I just chickened out and turned back.

I hated myself for that.

Damnit, why was I so afraid?

It shouldn't have been this hard. I wanted to see my uncle.

At least… I thought I did.

On the way towards the detention level I kept picturing the first time I had gone this way.

 _My arm locked in Negan's grip while he dragged me down the corridor. A feeling of instant regret for my earlier choice in words was in me and an icy dread fell over my skin. Then I saw his door. The empty stone and iron room, devoid of light and warmth._

 _Fists on my skin. Skids and bruises. Broken bones. The look in my uncle's eyes. Blood speckled on the ground. A drop like a beetle._

It hadn't been the guards that had caused me to turn back. Admittedly, it had been… something else.

I tried to shake the memory as I sat there at the table.

Negan did it for me though as his voice cut through my thoughts critically. "So basically, you do nothing all day."

"I guess I just feel a little drained most of the time. That happens when you're constantly impaled for your blood. There's not much to do when you're imprisoned for a month, either."

"Well you're not imprisoned anymore. So, you could try going to school." He suggested, though it tested far more as a threat.

"When I think there's something anyone in that classroom has that's worth teaching, then maybe I'll go."

"Well if you'd bothered listening in there, then maybe you would have had enough to find out there's plenty to learn. And all of it will be used in actual real life. We're not just wasting your time."

"Why do you care if I go or not?" I demanded skeptically. "The way I see it, you don't really need me to be smart. That's not the reason why I'm here after all."

He leaned back in his seat. "Believe it or not I do want you to think independently. You've got far more use if you're intelligent and I may need you to be more than a dimwitted juice box someday."

I was surprised to hear that from him. "What reason do you need me to be intelligent? I would think you wouldn't want me to be smart. I might start plotting against you after all. If there are plans you've got for me that extend beyond donating blood, you can cross those out of your head right now. I'd never willingly work with you."

"You'd work with me if you thought your people might get something out of it."

" _Right_ , and look how well that worked out the last time I tried to make a deal with you. Your word isn't worth shit to me! I tried to be decent and you were the first one to go back on your word."

His jaw clenched and I saw the vein on his neck bulge, the frequent indicator that he was beginning to lose his patience with me. "I would like to remind you that that trip was only to get your things. We didn't take anything else."

"I don't believe you." I stated firmly. "And even if I did, you still took from Alexandria. I don't care if it was for my things, it was still on Alexandrian land and you _**still**_ stole."

"What do you want me to do? Give it back?"

"Maybe you should try paying for something for once instead of thinking you're entitled to everything simply because you say you "protect us". You know four years ago, before we had to deal with your crap, you didn't protect us very well from the Wolves; we did that on our own. And you still thought you had a right to break into our home and take our stuff. And you still think that even now."

Negan got up and I couldn't help myself from flinching, worried that he would strike out at me, which was almost expected now. But he didn't. Strangely, he was somehow calm as he moved towards the window and looked out at it, a contemplative expression in his face as he examined the landscape the setting sun illuminated. "Do you know how big the Sanctuary expands?"

I remained quiet, wondering if this was some trick question. But he seemed to genuinely want an answer from me.

"Well?"

"Not really, I guess." I answered at last.

"Of course, you don't. But if you bothered to go to school you might have some idea. To paint a little picture for you, there are over six other outposts under my control, expanding a fifty-mile long diameter with over three hundred other people that man them. The supplies towns like yours, Hilltop and the Kingdom provide, go to sustaining those."

I went quiet, suddenly interested in his every word.

"Over three hundred, you understand. And those are just the soldiers. That's not counting the workers and families that live inside. I know you kindle thoughts of rebellion in that little head of yours. You want to go to war with me."

I didn't bother verbally confirming that suspicion. That was a no-brainer.

"Every day I'm expanding my borders further and further. I've reached out to other towns that we could possibly take over and have even heard of a powerful community to the south that we might be able to ally with. From the reports I've gotten, they're somewhere in Richmond. Fear and terror can only go so far. I've done pretty well with them; you can testify to that after all."

I clenched my jaw and glowered at his back, furious for the reminder.

"But the more territory I gain, the more enemies I make. Sooner or later, I'm going to meet someone who's really going to ruin my day. They'll have nothing to lose and everything to gain by taking me out. It'd be nice to have a trump card up my sleeve. One that they can't oppose as easily."

I frowned, uncertain about what he meant by that but I had a nasty suspicion that he wanted me to play some hand as that so-called "trump card" of his.

"I'll admit," he continued looking towards me, "beating you, hitting you, shutting you up in your room for all that time to get you back in line might have been… extreme, but I feel they were all necessary to earn your cooperation. And I needed that time without you to do some soul-searching for myself and figure a few things out."

"Like what?" I tested uneasily.

"Mostly about how I can use you to your full potential."

He stated it without a second thought. I was stunned by how easily he came out with it. He didn't even try to hide his true motive or even beat around the bush a little.

"No one cries over some fallen overlord." He said casually. "Someone else could just take my place. I hate to admit it but I am replaceable. It sucks—for me at least, and maybe for a few other people around here, too. I'm sure if I died my generals would rise to the occasion; Simon would most likely become the new Negan."

The current Negan looked back at me with that announcement, gaging my expression, which had soured even more at the idea that I could possibly have to deal with Simon in replace of this man, someday.

"Tell me, do you like Simon?"

I'd never admit it to him, but in truth, I may have reserved hatred for Simon that could have been greater than it even was for Negan. Simon killed Tara right in front of me. He led a massacre that killed dozens of men and boys whose spirits remained haunted by their murders. Negan was a monster, too, but there seemed to be a distinguishable lower body count surrounding him. Still… at times it was hard to tell who I hated more. Sometimes I caught sight of Simon strutting around the Factory much in the same way Negan did, demanding lesser workers to bow to him as he walked by, too. And if they didn't it usually didn't end well for them.

Of course, he never did that with me. I guess he didn't want to chance it. Maybe I was too valuable to mess with or too closely associated with his boss. After all, none of the workers I had seen seemed to be on the tall end of the hierarchy here. I could tell by their beaten and demeaned disposition and Simon chose his prey wisely.

From my silence, Negan seemed to have the answer he was expecting.

"Simon's not a favorable candidate for this position. Not many people would benefit from his leadership. He's been known to escalate situations, as you well know."

"Then why is he still in charge of anything?" If Negan was the big boss he bragged about, he could just kill Simon and be done with it—right?

"That's where politics come into play." Negan announced. "You think it would be easy to just kill him, wouldn't you?"

"Isn't it? It's what you do with everyone who bothers you."

"Not exactly. Simon controls a good deal of the soldiers in this place. Killing him may lead to an unfavorable uprising in my ranks. Disposing him requires tact and I'd need to do so in a way that reminds people where the real power lies. I can't just lure him in the woods and put a bullet in his head. People would get suspicious and I'd lose support. Why do you think your father stayed alive this whole time?"

"I thought you respected him on some twisted level."

"Mmm… partly. He's the leader of a major provider for us. I could kill him, yes, and put someone else of my choosing in charge, but then he'd become a martyr and that could be a real pain in my ass. So, I break him instead and get the others to fall in line behind him. If they feel like he isn't leading them in a way that is in their interests then they'll get rid of him for me, and depending on how their new leader moves against me, I go from there. It's better to let a rivalling group tear each other apart than waste soldiers and firepower doing it yourself."

"So… why exactly are you telling me this?"

"Well I thought it might interest you to know what you'll be in for if you find yourself with a new owner."

"You're not my owner!" I snapped instantly.

"Whatever puts you to sleep at night." He waved my statement off and returned to his seat. "Like I said, I'm replaceable. Almost every person here is. People are a resource, but resources can still be replenished. You on the other hand… we can't exactly replenish a resource like you."

 _Resource_ … was that what I was? Was that how he saw everyone?

"Now back to the subject on expansion. Like I said we're expanding our territory every day, finding new towns, gathering intel and reaching out to communities that could rival us. I'd like to avoid situations like the one that introduced us to your town if at all possible. Some people don't like to fall in line, and late-night ambushes can only go so far. But if I had something they couldn't exactly say no to… something valuable that everyone was seeking, well then, it would be mighty hard to be able to refuse something like that."

I glowered at what he implied. "I assume you're talking about the cure I provide."

"That, and something else." He confirmed. "I think it would be nice to show them a symbol they could rally behind. Something to give them."

I didn't even need a second to ponder what my answer would be for him.

"No."

He wasn't surprised as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I thought you would feel that way. Of course, you would never make this easy."

My gaze narrowed at him in disgust. "Why would I help make your conquest of more communities easy?" Was he retarded?

"Look I know you hate us, I know you want all of us dead. It's not like you do a whole lot to hide it."

"Actually, I'm very open about it. You'd have to be blind, deaf and stupid not to notice."

"Yeah… I know. I just thought maybe that hatred wouldn't extend to innocent strangers."

"Innocent strangers never hurt me or my people."

"Yes, but it seems like you wouldn't care very much if they were killed in a conflict that could have been avoided."

This time I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I see. The ol' victim blaming, huh? Going to try and convince me that they would die because of my inaction. Well I've got news for you; it wouldn't be my fault if they were. It would be yours. I'm not as gullible as you want me to be. You can't convince me about that shit anymore. I'm not the monster here, you are!"

Negan took a steady, careful breath. "Fine. Yes. I'm the monster. I know you think we're the real villains here. I know you think we're the ones that cause death and destruction wherever we go, but consider this, if we weren't the ones who recruited these communities, what do you think would happen?"

"I don't know. They'd probably live happily ever after."

"Is that what you think? Or maybe they would just be attacked by someone else. Someone worse, like say some Wolves, or another bad group like the one that kidnapped you. You said that before we met you, Alexandria was attacked. Well those invaders weren't really looking to take prisoners, if I'm correct. You're lucky your people were capable enough to fight them off. But what about other groups, huh? Can you say the same would happen for others?"

"I… I don't know. That just depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On a lot of things."

"Really? Okay, well let's imagine this. Let's say there's a group out there, maybe they're the size of your town. They're doing fine for the moment, going about their business and living their happy dandy lives. And then one day a group the size of Hilltop attacks them. Now this group has attacked groups like Alexandria before. They know the weak points of the walls and understand where the survivors would most likely try to escape to. Because this group was unprepared for this conflict it's pretty easy to conquer them. Maybe there's a few survivors and they manage to escape, but because they didn't have a proper system and no outposts anywhere else, they've got nowhere to go now, and no way to tell neighboring groups about the coming threat. So, the attacking group can go ahead and move on to the next town to attack, and then the next town, and the next town."

"Okay, so what?" I demanded. "You're saying you're the lesser of two evil attacking groups?"

"Well let's imagine that that town had been a part of a system that would have been able to stop that attacking group. If there were survivors of that town they would be able to warn the outposts and preparations could have been made to stop the invaders before they made another attempt towards a second town. That's what we do, Judy. That's how we operate. We stop threats like that from attacking more and more towns. We just ask for a little incentive for providing security like that."

I wasn't buying that load of bull for one second. "You're trying to gloss over the violence you've inflicted and paint yourself to look like some public servant when there's very little I've seen you do for other people. Everything you've done has been for yourself, and only yourself! The way you conduct yourself towards others is no way an actual servant of the public would treat people. So, for the last time, you are NOT a hero, already!"

He growled and pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to hold his temper at bay. "Just once I wish you could make this easy. Just once I wish you didn't have to push me."

"I don't push you to do anything!" I snapped at him. "I just refuse to swallow the lies you try to feed me, I'm not as desperate as other people and I'm not stupid enough to be blinded by your massive ego."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw his fist clench tightly and I shifted, unsure if it would connect with me if I continued to test him. But I just couldn't stop the sea of contradiction even if abuse was imminent.

"I really hoped we'd be able to do this without needing to hurt anyone, but you just won't work with me." He said with frustration.

"I tried to work with you but you'd rather lie than honor any agreement we made."

"Would it help if I promised not to take anything else from Alexandria?"

"I don't think so, because I wouldn't believe you even if you said it."

"Well what do you want from me—and don't say send you home, because that sure as fuck is not happening."

"I'd like you to stay the fuck out of my town!" I declared angrily. "I'd like you to crawl in a hole and bury yourself!"

His fist pounded the table, the restraint he'd been maintaining snapping at last. "Goddamned it, Judy, I'm trying to offer you something more here. I want to give you a position of leadership someday!"

The words took me off-guard for a moment but I snapped out of my surprise quickly, suspecting such an outburst to be a lie. "Well I don't want it!"

"Then you really are as fucking stupid as I thought—even stupider actually! Here I thought you would be interested to do some good—maybe help people like you say you do, but you'd rather be stubborn and childish."

"Sure. Like you want to give me any sort of authority. You just want to prance me around to others so you can say you've got some… higher authority or whatever that gives you the right to treat them like crap. You don't want to give me any sort of leadership, you just want to control and use me the way you do with everyone. Well sorry, but no. I'm not going to help you make it easier to take over towns and I'm not going to be some trophy you can wave at people!"

His jaw clenched as he sneered with looming promise. "We'll take those towns anyways. You could at least aid in lessoning the bloodshed."

"Their blood is not on my hands! Quit trying to manipulate me with that fake blame!"

"I believe our agreement would say otherwise. If I recall correctly you promised to obey me and behave, and you couldn't even do that. If I broke the agreement then you did just as much."

"I did after I found out you did, first. I only started acting out after you bragged how you made a house-call to Alexandria, not to give them any supplies, but to take supplies just like you promised you wouldn't do."

"Once again, I would like to point out that that was for your things, which you seem to repeatedly forget."

"If I wanted my things I would ask you to take me there so I can collect them myself, but how am I to make sure you didn't take more than that?" I breathed deep, getting tired of going in circles like this. I was tired of trying to talk to him. It was pointless.

"Look, we are two people who don't like each other, who are never going to like each other," I began, trying to control my anger. "But we can make deals and we can uphold the conditions of those deals out of professional respect. But if they're violated, there's no more need for cooperation. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of being the only one who thinks a deal goes both ways. Uphold your end and I'll uphold mine." Without another word, I got up and walked to the doorway, finished with my food and finished with him. "This conversation is over. I'm going back to that room."

I left through the door, slamming it as I did so. I waited for a moment, wondering if he would charge after me, but he didn't. When I thought it was safe to leave entirely I went back to the room.

When I got up like that to turn my back on him I was so sure he would cross the room to grab or hit me again, or do something far more deranged, perhaps involving Daryl as a penalty for my disrespect. I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid he would still attempt something like that later if he came after me, but the hours ticked by and he did neither.

* * *

Days after our conversation I was still thinking of it. As much as I hated to believe it, what if Negan was right? What if all that bloodshed could have been avoided if I just cooperated? What if I was just being my usual selfish self again? What if I could lessen some of that destruction by just being an aid?

Then I'd want to hit myself for having thoughts like that. It wasn't my fault if the Saviors were vicious and murderous. I wasn't the one to cause any of that. I had no obligation to help make those takeovers easier. It wasn't my fault and it wasn't my responsibility. But I couldn't shake the idea of them.

Negan said they'd take them anyways, even if they had to do it violently, though he preferred not to. He wanted me to help him do that. It was disgusting, the whole idea was disgusting. But what else could I do?

Of course, I could refuse. There was no reason for me to comply. I didn't want to help the Saviors in any way if I could help it, but could I just ignore all those other innocent groups and communities?

 _Damnit! Negan, you bastard!_

Even if I didn't cooperate with him now, he'd eventually have me doing what he wanted. It was just a matter of time really.

* * *

I didn't go back to school in the following days and I heard no words about it from anyone. So, with no one to tell me otherwise, I decided to do more exploring of the areas that weren't off-limits and maybe gather more intel on the layout of this base; particularly any heavily guarded areas. I wore the cloak, much to my revulsion to it. I had tested Negan's fury enough over the past few days, I didn't want to invoke his wrath more by blatantly refusing another order.

The guard followed me, but at a distance.

I stuck out like a sore middle finger but even if I did, no one dared bother me. I ignored the looks a few of the broken people cast me while the hushed whispers were thrown around once my back was to them; whispers that seemed suspiciously like they were about me.

"Rumor mill," I muttered under my breath. Out of discretion, or maybe because I just wanted to hide more from people, I pulled up my hood and buried my nose in the tall collar, feeling I could maybe disappear behind the material.

That was impossible, though.

Eventually, I made it outside. It was overcast and I could smell rain. It was pleasant to feel the chill in the air; comforting almost. True, I could do more during the summer months, but that sweltering heat was always beating down and it was difficult being comfortable when your body was a factory of sweat to make the clothes on your back stick to your skin like paste during that whole season. The fall months were fast approaching, I realized dismally, catching sight of yellowing leaves on a few of the taller trees surrounding the factory.

I wandered around the more deserted areas but always within sight of the damned fence and its guards. It was strange strolling near chained up walkers. Their teeth gnashed out and they moaned to anyone who came near, frantic to reach out and strip flesh from bone like the starving soulless creatures they were. But when I approached, their struggles to come closer ceased entirely and they moved away like I was tainted. Well, maybe not exactly like I was tainted, maybe more like the pole of a magnet meeting the same pole.

Out of curiosity, I came closer to one almost touching the fence, dangling from chains around its torso and neck. It was turned away from me, facing the forest and any potential threats that tried to come near. It couldn't see me, but it could sense me as could the others within the proximity. First, the moans stopped and they all stilled in their pursuits to escape, swaying back and forth in their spots. This was odd. Normally they would try to get away from me, but somehow, they calmed this time, like they were waiting for something.

My eyes switched to the trees and the desperate longing I felt at the sight of the green growing things ached in my chest, it was as if a corset was crushing me. In my eyes, there was no sight more dazzling than the woods. I thought back to the brief escape I had made outside and the crushing defeat it had been to return back her. Maybe I could try again, but I'd just end up coming back again. So what was even the point.

Dwight was right. If I ran now, there was a high probability that Negan was never going to stop hunting me. The idea of being prey, pursued and hunted constantly, seemed even scarier than being a prisoner.

With a painful lurch, I turned from the sight.

I didn't walk far before voices alerted me. Negan's voice was among them and it sounded like he was giving orders to load up. I snuck behind a barrel and watched as a few dozen Saviors gathered round a truck, loading supplies on it till it was full to capacity.

This seemed strange. Were they making a delivery to an outpost then? That seemed logical. Those outposts probably needed a decent amount of supplies to sustain them. Maybe they would do several drop-offs. He'd said so after all.

That would probably be important to log away in my mental notes.

I spotted Simon come up to him at that moment and tried to suppress the wash of hatred that would have prompted me to throw something at him in fury. Instead I listened.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Think of it as a step towards building a better relationship with our subordinates." The man announced, swinging his new bat. "They've provided for us for years. I think we can return the favor every once in a while. Besides, we need to keep our little carrier from doing something she'll regret."

I was stunned by those words. What was he doing?

"By the way, has anyone seen her recently?"

"She was wandering around earlier. Sorry, looks like she didn't go to school, today."

His face betrayed a withering glower at being ignored yet again. "Well if this doesn't make her happy I don't know what the fuck will." He turned to the passenger seat of the truck and jumped inside. "Load up boys. We're going to Alexandria."

I stayed behind the barrels until the last of the trucks had disappeared, stunned frozen. Negan was holding up his end of the bargain at last. I watched in disbelief before I realized the implications it meant for my position. I groaned but got up all the same, knowing immediately where I was headed now.

A few minutes later I opened the door of the designated school room. Whatever lecture the teacher had been engrossed in, halted instantly at the sight of me.

I said nothing, nor did I respond to the numerous gazes that followed me when I walked to the only opened seat available. The chair squeaked audibly and I dropped in it as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for something while they stared at me.

"Just don't ask me to do any group projects," I finally announced.

There was a small moment of silence before the teacher turned from me without comment and continued with the lesson once again.

* * *

 _ **Author's notes: So, things might be improving a little. Negan's taken the initiative to get Judith to cooperate. It's still no guarantee that she plans to help him with those towns, but for the moment, she'll behave enough to at least attend school the way he wants her to. Anything more than that needs to be negotiated. I'm glad I was at least able to get this chapter out of the way. I have another big chapter coming up, but I don't know if it'll happen next update or not. I need to work on a few things and I hope they don't end up being more deleted scenes.**_

 _ **I at least hope to have another chapter done this month. Fingers crossed that this story doesn't become something that's only updated every month.**_

 _ **On another note, the new season of Walking Dead is back. I haven't actually had the chance to watch it yet, but I'll probably do so in the next few days or so. I'm a little hesitant to do it though, this being Rick's final episodes and all, I expect a gruesome death and am not in any kind of hurry to witness that, one bit.**_

 _ **Anyways, as always, I appreciate all your wonderful reviews and comments. I love hearing all your thoughts and am totally floored with every new one you guys send me!**_

 _ **Luv ya lots, guys!**_


	55. No Child Left Behind

**Chapter 55  
No Child Left Behind**

I had never been any good at school. Not ever. But that didn't mean I was stupid. I just didn't function within a system or a schedule. I learned in my own way, and what I did learn, I gobbled up eagerly. Once presented with a subject that interested me or seemed relevant to projects I was currently in the middle of, I became driven to learn anything and everything I could about it. But give me numerous tasks throughout the day so it became too difficult to catch up or focus on one individual thing already, then I became disinterested and spent the better part of my time zoning out in my seat.

To Negan, it didn't seem too important whether I was good at school or not, he just wanted me to attend. And when he returned from his trip to Alexandria that evening he was pleased to hear I had voluntarily attended the remaining two hours of school on my own. From that day on, I continued to attend, if at all reluctantly.

That didn't mean I had gotten any better at it. I often shirked whatever homework was assigned to me, though, consuming my interest with other things like Vanessa's spell book. It seemed far more productive to pour over that rather than learn about a battle at Gatesberg that took place a thousand and ninety-three off years ago that relatively meant nothing today. There were no more reenactors left to honor such an event so it made no difference whether people remembered it or not.

It was all irrelevant.

Those first few weeks the teacher often lectured me or tried to get me to participate and then ended with lecturing me more when I ignored her. I never learned anyone's name. They were more irrelevant than the words they tried to shove in my head.

Sometimes we had guest speakers, the same way we had back in Alexandria, talking about how things used to be before or demonstrating special skills like safety measures when dealing with walkers or strangers from out of town and other stuff like that. One time, Eugene came in to do some sort of science experiment that was probably going to blow up.

I wasn't sure what it was and I never found out.

The sight of him brought forth a furious rage and if I remained to hear anything drop from his mouth, I was going to end up throwing something at him.

With an audibly loud screech from my chair, I rose briskly and left the room without a word or explanation why. The teacher's voice sounded as she tried to call me back, but I only ignored her, slamming the door on my way out. I spent the remainder of the day in the room, simmering down by throwing a bouncy ball against the opposite wall of the bed then catching it over and over again until dinner time.

* * *

The days passed with the only constant thing being the biweekly checkups and donations. Dr. Carson was disappointed to find that I still remained stubbornly small and had gotten even skinnier than when I arrived at the Sanctuary.

"Damnit," he muttered under his breath while taking my measurements. "You've lost another half-pound."

"I can't help it." I growled back, folding my arms stubbornly.

"You could try eating once in a while."

"I _do_ eat. I just don't gain anything."

He ignored my insistence and went on. "I'm prescribing you a new diet."

"Fine." I huffed, deflating in my seat.

"I want you to eat a minimum of one thousand, one hundred and sixty calories a day." He wrote a note on his clipboard. "If you don't want to eat with Negan I suggest you start putting a bit more effort into cleaning your plate at meals. Otherwise the extra help will be required to monitor you."

I wanted to growl with that but I only submitted to the decision grudgingly. "Fine."

* * *

It was nice when I could ditch my guard for a few hours of peace. Not that the old lady made much noise or protest when she was around, but her constant presence irritated me and if there was an opportunity to slip away from her, I took it.

Today I was hanging about on an overhanging ledge near the classroom. I had excused myself early because Eugene had decided to make another presentation that day and I was in no mood to listen to anything he had to say, useful or otherwise. I dangled my legs over the side of the roof, watching while the autumn clouds drifted in the sky. In my hand was an old wooden broom handle which I'd found discarded somewhere. It was crooked and the brush was scruffy with bent twigs, probably the reason why it was thrown out, but I still saved it from the woodpile with thoughts that maybe I'd repurpose it as more of a decorative piece I could hang on my wall or use it as a prop for a witch costume.

October would be coming up soon and with it, Halloween. Since I was six, I had been the exact same thing every year with only small alterations made towards my costume. Of course, Carl said I was supposed to dress up as something I _wasn't_. Still, the idea of just flying away on a broomstick was a fantasy that I entertained quite often, especially here.

My eyes closed against a daydream I sometimes kindled, involving my thirteenth birthday and leaving home and family to spend a year making it on my own in a distant beautiful city, accompanied only by a small sack of essentials and my sarcastic little black cat.

Cawing interrupted my thoughts just then and I spotted a few ravens fly overhead and perch on a few of the building wires. Ravens... they'd always remind me of John. There was a flock that used to follow him wherever he went. Maybe they were with him now.

My thoughts were jarred just then when the door of the small attachment swung opened just then and four kids filed out.

"Do you think it's true, all the stuff they say about her?" A boy of about eleven years old asked his companions.

"Who knows?" A tall girl scoffed.

"She says she's a witch. Do you thing that's true?" A girl, maybe twelve, added curiously.

"No way. She's just exaggerating. Dumb Alexandrian brat trying to impress us…" The tall girl answered back.

"But the dead really do flee from her," a boy with wavy blond hair added. "I've seen it! If that's not a sign of being a witch I don't know what is. And if she wasn't why would they take her in the first place?"

"She's the cure. That's the only reason they bothered with her."

"Well, she does have some really ancient spell book she reads from sometimes." The other boy interjected. "It gives her premonitions and lets her see ghosts and stuff."

"I heard she broke Lucille. She snapped it across her knee right in front of Negan and he didn't even do anything."

"No, no, my dad was there. He said she launched it across their lake and it shattered into a million pieces. That's what he said happened at least."

"It's not true." The tall girl scoffed yet again. "People just want to make a big deal over bullshit."

"Oh, it is true." I interrupted calmly from above them. They all jumped and spun, craning their necks to look at me from where I was perched. I wouldn't have bothered contributing to their conversation; it shouldn't have mattered what they believed. They had small minds and all their parents were going to die brutal deaths. But they should still know to fear me.

"Wha—how long have you been sitting there?" The girl, whom I assumed was their leader, demanded.

"The whole time, and just to clarify, yes, I am a witch."

The girl scoffed yet again. "You're lying."

"I lie about a lot of things, but not about that… or that bat."

The three others looked at me with mixed expressions of awe and suspicion. "…You really shattered Lucille?"

"Guilty as charged."

"Like hell you did. I bet the bat just got lost on a raid. You're full of shit."

"And you're full of piss and vinegar, but I don't judge based on that; I judge based on how much of an asshole you are, and you're teetering over the edge."

"You think you're better than us." The girl deduced.

"I don't enslave others or dehumanize them, nor do I support people who do. So yes, I'm better than you."

"It's not enslavement if payment is presented."

"Payment?" I snorted with a grim chuckle. "Is that what your parents tell you happens out there? Your ignorance could almost be adorable, or maybe you're just as stupid and delusional as they are. And in that case, you're just as guilty."

The tall girl wasn't moved by any words I had about it. "We know what goes on out there. And we know your people killed first. If they got themselves this deep into shit, it was their own damn fault. They deserved whatever happened to them."

"And what of the people who were murdered by their hands without any cause or provocation? They were forced to their knees while they begged for their lives. They didn't get any mercy, though. You live with monsters and someday you're going to be just like them."

A few of the kids looked uneasy by the news, shifting slightly. The tall girl didn't seem disturbed by my words though, smiling sinisterly.

"Yeah, I heard all about the night Negan cornered your people. I heard that Negan bashed in some ginger prick's head in and then a little Asian boy. I heard your dad cried like a little bitch, too. I heard he begged his heart out when Negan told him to cut your brother's arm off."

With those words, I leapt from the roof, still holding the broom in my hands and rolling nimbly when I hit the ground, rising to face this belligerent shit. She stepped back, taken off-guard by how spritely I moved but waited for my response to see how she would counter.

"You seem to know an awful lot about that night for someone who wasn't even there." I murmured softly, dangerously. "Do your parents get a kick out of reliving hell for others? Do you turn on when you get to hear about those little anecdotes? You want to know a secret? I hope you do. If you felt guilty at all for the things your parents have done, it would have complicated things and I need to make sure you're full monsters before I put any bullets in your heads. If you weren't then I may feel guilty myself, so I'm glad any worries I had were put to rest. That makes things easy."

The girl seemed to take another uneasy step back, clearly not expecting that to be my reaction. She wanted me to react with some outburst. Instead, I had a devious spark of intrigue now, one that set her on edge and made her warry. Apparently not enough to detour her, though, and she rebuffed my statement with a heated hiss.

"Yeah, well it's too bad your dad's a sobbing fuckup, maybe then someone would've been able to teach you how to act like a good little slave, already!"

With those words, I saw red, and no it wasn't from my cloak this time. My body moved forward, acting on its own before my emotions could even actually register the fury spawned from those words. The broom struck out, striking her squarely across the nose where a spout of blood squirted instantly from the blow. With her distracted by the pain, the entirety of my weight slammed into the girl, knocking the breath out of her with the action. Wrapping my arms in an iron-lock grip around her waist, my momentum was strong enough to hoist her up, effortlessly. I moved forward taking the girl with me and leapt onto a small step ladder that someone had left in the yard and launched off of the top step. We both dropped, with me on top of her as her back connected with the ground, hard.

I felt the breath leave her body a second time and her whole form was frozen, thrown into shock for landing on her back at such a height. I took advantage of her state to straddle her and there I slapped and punched her repeatedly.

"Hard to talk shit when there's no breath in you isn't it, you troll!" I muttered, gripping a fistful of her shirt and using it to anchor her more towards my blows.

"Holy shit!" One of the other kids cried in shock.

"BODY-SLAMMED! SHE TOTALLY JUST BODY-SLAMMED HER!"

Quite suddenly, there was a ring of children surrounding us that had grown much larger than it was a moment before. Shouts were uttered and a rounding chant of "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" echoed through the yard.

I continued to hit the girl, landing blow after blow, until her face was a mess of blood and tears and I had her begging for mercy.

The chanting suddenly dispersed when I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders that tore me away from the girl and dragged me to my feet.

"Break it up! Break it up I say!" I looked up to find a woman Savior, the lady who'd been assigned to guard me, holding me up angrily as she viewed the scene with rage.

"What the hell is going on here?"

There was no answer. The girl on the ground was too shaken to speak and none of the other kids seemed inclined to explain to the intimidating women. A few had even run off at the woman's involvement. I remained silent as well, my arm locked in her grip as she looked around the circle of kids.

She seemed to realize that she would get no answer and turned around, dragging me behind her as she fumed. "Alright then, let's see if you're a little more talkative in private."

I wasn't.

So, she got a different kid to explain what happened. He neglected to inform them that the girl had started it in the first place with her trash talk, but I didn't care. I never expected them to take my word for it so I added nothing to the statement.

We waited in the classroom, the girl I'd maimed had gone off with her parents after they'd shouted up a storm in another room, furious for the state of their daughter. When they finally chose to leave, I chanced a glance and spotted the girl holding an icepack to keep the swelling down against her face and there was a wad of toilet paper up both her nostrils. About an hour later, Negan walked in, looking irritated, probably because this spat was keeping him from tormenting some other poor individual.

Well, I was always happy to help someone out.

"Alright," he growled, approaching the teacher and guard. "What the hell did she do this time?"

"She attacked another student." The old lady said first. "Punched and body-slammed her apparently."

"Who was the student?"

"Miss Parapenski."

He looked down at me and I refused to meet his eye out of indifference. "Judy, did you really do that?"

I only shrugged, disconnected from this whole discussion. "They say I did it; I must've done it."

"May I ask why you would do that?"

"Who cares?" I said, unwilling to go into detail. He didn't need to know that. It was better that he thought I was some delinquent that would spring into a fight for no reason than spring into a fight if pushed just the right way. I didn't want to give them that sort of ammunition.

"Ms. Parapenski is in pretty bad shape. Her parents are very angry."

"Like he cares," I muttered under my breath too low for any of them to hear what I said clearly.

He made my uncle beat me till my arm dislocated, so I was pretty sure his tolerance for children beating on each other was pretty liberal. Any judgment he had about it was curved so it didn't matter what reasons it was for. He had already made his decision about this spat before he even came in the room, and I assumed that it was less likely in my favor.

That's what he did after all, decided things before he needed any information about it.

"Judith, talk." He ordered firmly. "Why did you do this?"

"Because I could." I snapped out, knowing he wanted an answer in some form. "You don't even care! Just punish me already and get it over with."

There was a moment of silence while I kept my gaze firmly away from him. Then he asked the teacher to leave us alone for a moment. She didn't even hesitate.

I expected I was in for a beating of my own and inwardly prepared for a slap or backhand the moment the door had closed behind the woman.

Instead, Negan only leaned against the teacher's desk, facing me expectantly with his arms crossed.

"You're not known to be someone who rushes into fights unless provoked. So, what happened? Did Imogene get a little mouthy for your taste?"

I grimaced at the thought and bit out angrily towards his inquiry, "I guess you could say that I had to… _put her back in line_. That's all people do here after all; put others back in line?"

He considered my words carefully and I chanced a glance towards him. There was a small smile on his face with the declaration and he nodded. "Hmm. That we do. Maybe you're learning after all. So Parapenski was talking through her ass again? Guess I'll have to remind her folks to teach her where the real power is, and how their little girl ought to learn who she's allowed to fight around here."

It didn't sit well to think he would resolve this issue for me. I didn't need him to step into fights on my behalf. He wasn't supposed to be on my side. He wasn't supposed to even care.

"I think I got that message across. I don't need you to do more for me."

"Still, I would prefer it if you wouldn't tear your peers apart anymore. People don't need to watch two little girls fighting each other, after all."

I scoffed, refusing to believe he would ever be against anyone going at each other to the death. He lived for blood and bruises after all. "What? Only adults beat on kids? But kids beating other kids is just out of the question?"

"Now don't start that with me. There's a time and a place for fighting. It's not here and it's not now."

"We weren't fighting." I contradicted with a glower. "I was kicking her ass. She was begging me to stop, but I didn't because it felt good to hurt her. I liked it—but only during. I don't feel so good about it now."

His head tilted in thought by that announcement. He wasn't angry or even really surprised, just thoughtful. "Hmm."

I glanced up by that.

"'Hmm?'" I repeated uncertainly. "What's 'hmm?'"

"Nothin'. Just thinkin' about that. Wondering if it's a good thing or not."

I said nothing about it, wondering if it was a good thing myself.

"Why don't you punish me?" I demanded in confusion. "I thought you'd leap at the opportunity."

"Well maybe I don't think there's much to punish you for."

"Why not? I just told you I kicked another kid's ass and I liked it? Isn't that reason enough?"

"You were putting her back in line. Imogene is a dog's kid. She'll probably be a dog when she grows up. Dogs need to know their place, need to know who their alpha is. You can't let one growl at you and get away with it. They need to know who their pack leader is and to always mind them, otherwise they'll never respect you. I'm proud you stood up for yourself."

I looked back at him, stunned completely, and maybe even a little sick by the thought. In that moment I realized that Negan wanted me to assert my dominance even if I became a complete tyrant among these kids.

His words came back to me, just then.

 _I want to give you a position of leadership someday!_

But I didn't want it. I didn't want to lead these people and I didn't want these kids following me. I hadn't done anything to earn their respect, anyways. All I did was make them wary of me. Fear was not the same as respect and it would have been nice if Negan would stop associating one with the other.

"I would like to make something clear though." Negan began again. "Pick your fights well. I don't want you getting into tussles with kids from higher ranks around here. That could make things awkward if I had to win approval once again. Assert your dominance but make sure it's justified. Try not to take things so far a second time. I'll give you a break for it today, but next time I won't be so proud."

I cringed with the withering look he sent towards me and knew the unspoken threat in his voice. My mind was still having trouble processing the strike of luck I had landed on. I was certain Negan would have turned my insides out when he was told what had happened. It didn't seem possible that he would pass up an opportunity to punish me for this transgression.

In a secret sort of way, I almost wish he would.

We walked out of the classroom to face Imogene and her parents who were both angry but mindful not to start anything with Negan about it. The man himself faced them without worry and passed over the issue with a delicate dangerousness, suggesting that they ought to teach her daughter who she's allowed to challenge and who she isn't. The totem pole was in place for a reason, she should have learned her place better.

It seemed after those words, her parents were cowed again and the fire and anger they had had before was snuffed out immediately.

They both nodded, promising they would make sure she understood next time and there wouldn't be further trouble.

We walked off after that, turning our backs on the family like the lower-ranked gnats they were. The act didn't sit well with me, but I had to admit that I suddenly had a better idea of the precise position I actually held in this place. Transgressions against lower ranks were forgiven, but I could not so easily get away with pulling that same sort of stuff on Negan or his generals.

Just how exactly did the hierarchy work here?

Frankie had explained it to me when I first got here, but it still held some confusion for me. Maybe if it was better visualized.

Back in the room, I tried to sketch out the position everyone may have held. Negan was at the top, obviously, his generals probably came next, then his wives and the doctor (Eugene might have been worked in with either the doctor or his generals, I really couldn't tell if he was lower or higher than that), then came higher-ranking Saviors, lower ranking Saviors, workers like the teacher and the people that minded the gardens and animals, and last on the totem pole were the prisoners like Daryl, who could be pushed around by just about everyone.

I suspected that any families were ranked in accordance with the highest-ranking member of their family.

And I ranked… somewhere with the wives, like I had been told upon my first day here. But by all technicalities, I was still a prisoner, just like Daryl. Yet I was a prisoner that could get away with beating up a lower Savior's kid.

Maybe the status of my position was unique in that way. I was told that I ranked with the wives and they were given certain freedoms like I was, but they were still reminded that they were owned by someone.

I looked over to the horrible red cloak I was always forced to wear.

 _We all wear collars here. We're all owned by someone; if you fight against it you'll just end up choking yourself._

But I didn't believe those words. I was only owned until I broke my collar or tore off the hand that ensnared me, then I'd be free. But tearing off his hand was harder than it sounded.

If only there was someone—not a prisoner or a traitor—that was able to help me, that was on my side for a change. Someone I could talk to, confide in and seek aid when I needed it.

My thoughts turned to Vanessa and the other ghosts, but they were out of reach. I didn't know where they had gone, but it didn't look like I would be able to count on them, not since Merle had helped me that one time. They had gone somewhere I couldn't sense. Occasionally I had glimpses of spirits I didn't know, but no one spoke to me.

If there was just someone I could talk to about all this…

I closed my eyes, remembering the sight of a dark black coat and long hair pulled back by a leather string, white skin, and a poetry book.

My heart clenched at the thought of but it was useless thinking about him. He had made his decision and as much as it hurt, he was never coming back. Maybe it was time I stopped thinking about it and just moved on.

But where the mind longed to forget the heart just wanted to keep holding on, so it was impossible.

* * *

 _ **Author's notes: Big chapter coming up! I am so super excited for you guys to read it. There's a bit of foreshadowing that I've inserted in this chapter. I can't wait for you guys to see it. If I can, I'll try to have it posted next week.**_

 _ **If you guys liked this chapter or if you have any questions on your mind, definitely feel free to leave a comment. You really have no idea how much I appreciate your thoughts.**_

 _ **On another note that's not really related to the story so far, I've started watching the new season of TWD and I gotta say, it's seems to be going a little slowly. This whole business with the Saviors really makes me angry.**_

 _ **Rick made a decision that wasn't his to make. After everything the Saviors did, people deserve justice and they deserve closure. There shouldn't be a statute of limitations on unprovoked murder and if that murder had been justified there is no reason, absolutely no reason, to take pleasure from it, or to pour salt and the wounds of the people that had to watch.**_

 _ **Those Saviors killed CHILDREN! They deserved what happened to them!**_

 _ **If some people want to forgive and forget well they have that right, but don't write off the people who can't let go as easily. The nonviolent pacifist area of thinking is a nice story, but in the kind of world that they live in, it's incredibly impractical. There's too much bad blood, too much violence that these people had to endure and it's not fair to ask them to work beside people who have done such wrong to them. They need to be held accountable for their actions and there needs to be penalties.**_

 _ **Oceanside wasn't wrong for wanting that, and neither is Maggie. As long as those people survived while their loved one didn't, it's all they'll think about until the wrongs are righted. If Rick wants to work together to build a better future, then good for him, but he does not have a right to make everyone else do the same. That's what dictators do. If they want a better future, then there should be something called democracy and majority vote that's paving the way for that, and if the Majority wants to see murders hang for what they've done then that power is theirs, for good or bad.**_

 _ **That's my opinion at least. What do you guys think?**_

 _ **As always, I just want to remind everyone to review and comment, because I love hearing your thoughts.**_

 _ **Luv ya guys lots!**_


	56. The Tale of Beetle and the Beast

**Chapter 56  
The Tale of Beetle and the Beast**

The rain beat like a drum into battle, yet I found peace while listening to it. The weather today was wet and chilly, putting any work outside on hold until it cleared. It was a rare opportunity when I could enjoy the empty grounds of the Sanctuary. My thoughts kept me company while I walked and I occupied myself with daydreams about some novels I'd become rather attached to in the past few weeks.

Out of nowhere, I was suddenly drawn by a commotion coming from the entrance where a group of Saviors were yelling and had their weapons drawn on an approaching stranger. Over his back, he seemed to be hauling something or another person it looked like. One of the Saviors shouted for them to drop it and get on the ground, or they would fire.

I watched from a safe distance as the person obeyed, gingerly laying the man he was carrying on the ground while he himself got to his knees and put his hands behind his head. It looked like he knew the drill well. Three men kept guns on him while one man circled around and bound his arms quickly. When satisfied, another helped him get the stranger to his feet and march him through the gates. The two others kept their guns on him while the remaining three looked after the man on the ground. From the way they carried him, it looked as though he may have been one of their own.

As the man was marched forward, his outline started to become clearer. It was hard to tell through the downpour but something about this man felt ominously familiar. He wore a black trench coat, made from heavy leather and hanging around him like enormous bat wings. His hood was up, casting his face in shadow and making it even more difficult to identify. The man himself was impressively tall, and even at this distance I could tell he was intimidating. The Saviors didn't so much as lower their guns a fraction as they marched him towards the building.

I was too far away to see his face, so I braved a few steps closer while the Saviors escorted him to the far end. My eyes narrowed even more and my heart sped as he came closer.

I knew this person. I was sure I did.

When he was just feet from me there was a sudden gust of wind, which rustled our coats and clothes and blew our hoods right off our heads at the exact same moment. That's when he finally lifted his face and our gazes locked at last. My eyes widened at the sight of the white marble skin, ebony hair, and a winding scar that filled half of his face.

My heart stopped.

I would know that face anywhere.

For a moment, I wasn't even really sure I was seeing him. Obviously, I was hallucinating or this was a dream and I was going to wake up in a few moments.

Because how could such a thing be real? He had left me so long ago…

Then his yellow eyes brought me back to reality and I knew immediately that this was no dream.

It was my old mysterious friend and teacher—the other Elf of Alexandria.

It was John.

* * *

 _ **Flashback  
**_ There was a day in fall when the air blew crisp through the trees and the garden vegetables were ready to be harvested, when a stranger came to the island from out of nowhere. I was concentrating on tending to Babatila's shrine plants when my eyes caught on something dark. I looked up and found a tall pale man clad in a black leather trench coat and sauntering up the path. He had raven black hair pulled back in a ponytail and the right side of his face was scared with deep stitches. That side of his head had little to no hair at all and his skin was so white I thought he was a walker at first. Yet his movements were too calculated and thoughtful to be a mindless dead one.

And yet I was still afraid, for the living were even more dangerous.

The sight of him was terrifying, not because of how he looked but because a complete stranger was on this supposedly secret island. Without thinking, I rushed up to the hovering spirit of my tutor and cried out in shock, pointing towards the newcomer.

"Miss Ives, Miss Ives! There's a strange man here!"

When she turned to follow where my finger pointed, her face grew shocked for the briefest of moments. Then it melted into something adoring and fond. With that she leaned down to me and said, "Judith, you mustn't be afraid of him. He will not harm you. He's a very dear friend of mine."

He looked my way, approaching cautiously so he wouldn't spook me more.

"I—I'm sorry. I'm not here to cause trouble." For added measure he got down on a knee attempting to look less threatening. "Forgive my appearance, I know I look like a beast, but I swear I will not harm you. I'm looking for Miss Ives. Is she here?"

"Judith," Miss Ives announced. "Would you mind being my interpreter?"

I looked at her then back at the man and nodded. The man assumed I was nodding to him, though.

"Would you take me to her?"

I turned back and spoke as the lady asked me to. "Miss Ives says your name is John Clare."

"Yes. She told you about me? Can I speak to her?"

"You're speaking to her right now."

He was stunned and looked around as if trying to find the woman standing somewhere hidden, but all he saw was me and the garden.

"Please, where is she? I need to speak with her. I don't have time for games."

"She's right here." I told him. "Or… her spirit is at least. She says don't be alarmed, she's no longer here in body but I will interpret for her."

He looked stunned and sad. "Miss Ives is… dead then."

"It was an accident." I told him. "She wants you to know it wasn't violent."

"Where is her grave?"

I showed him the mound of dirt, speckled with warm-colored fall flowers.

"So, she truly is..." He said sadly, looking down at it. "No bursting from this one?"

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I remained silent. Finally, the silence grew too much for me and I looked back at him. Then Miss Ives spoke to me.

"Would you say something? Try to comfort him for me."

I thought for a moment, trying to think of any words that might've helped him. "I-I'm sorry about the way I acted when you were coming up the hill. It wasn't because of how you look, if that's what you think. It was because of… well, you were a stranger, and strangers… aren't safe. And no one's supposed to know about this place, either."

He smiled softly, instinctively pulling up his collar in an attempt to hide the scarred side of him. "Thank you for your honesty. It's not offensive if you were in the least, though. It would not have been the first time I startled a child by my face."

I looked back up with a soft smile of my own. He seemed so forlorn and reserved. It was a bit early to form a real opinion but I think I was growing fond of him. "I'm Judith, by the way. Judith Grimes."

"John Clare, but you knew that already."

"Talk to him about poetry." Miss Ives prompted.

"John Clare was a poet, wasn't he?" I announced, thinking of her words.

He seemed to perk at that. "He was indeed. Do you like poetry?"

"Some." I told him. "I like the Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt, but besides that not much else. It's too sad."

"Sad people like poetry, happy people like songs." He said with a fond sort of smile.

"Well… it might take happiness to appreciate the song but it takes sadness to understand the lyrics." I countered, speaking from a quote I had read once.

He looked down and his interest was completely on me. "How very true."

"Will you stay here?" I asked.

"If there is no intrusion."

"She says there isn't."

"But what about you? I wouldn't wish to impose if it would become an inconvenience."

"What's an inconvenience?"

"It's a problem that gets in the way."

"Oh. Of course, not then! It's no _inconvenience_. You can stay here if you knew Miss Ives. But how did you know about _this_ place?"

He turned to the brick home and breathed deep. "We built this island together."

" _You_ built this house?"

"I did, with her help, of course."

"Miss Ives said that she lived in England for a while, but she came here."

"That's true. She chose to go far away and start over on a land that would forever hold sacred value and protection so she might live on in peace. We were led to this place, this ruined temple of the old gods."

"Were you two… in love?"

He looked off in thought. "T'is a strange thing. In all our time together, we never felt anything more for each other than friendship, almost as if we grew to be siblings of some kind."

"Did you mind it?"

"No. Really, I did not. I hope she was not offended by that."

"She's not." I told him, speaking in place of Miss Ives own words. "And she's happy you were able to remain as close friends without expectations."

"I've come to appreciate friendships in all its forms. Romance in all its sweetness has a strange way of leaving someone deeply hurt should it turn sour."

"Miss Ives sees it the same."

He looked at me with consideration. "We speak much about me and Miss Ives, but I've no knowledge of you. Would it be intrusive to ask about your life?"

"I'm not sure what you mean when you talk funny like that."

"Forgive me. What I meant is would you care if I asked some things about you?"

"I guess not."

"Do you live here now?"

"No, I just visit. Miss Ives teaches me when I come. I live with a group of people not far away."

"Well how did you get here on your own?"

"I'm not as helpless as I look." I stated resolutely, pouting at the idea.

"My apologies. It's merely second nature for me to concern over youths. I was once a father long ago."

"Oh…" I said blankly noting the past tense of that statement. "Well it's alright. I get it. I'm a kid and kids don't usually know how to defend themselves against monsters and all that. But I've got a few tricks of my own."

"That's helpful."

"It is! Dead people don't bother me much, anyways. It's living people that are the real danger."

"For some they certainly are. It's fortunate you can defend yourself."

I nodded, far more curious about his relationship with my teacher. "How did you know Miss Ives?"

"We were long-time friends back when she was… when we were both different people." He said somberly. "How do _you_ know Miss Ives?"

"She teaches me."

He looked down at me with a queer expression. "And you can see her now?"

"Yes." I answered. "I know it's hard to believe. I know it's seven kinds of crazy. But it's the truth."

He sighed looking away tiredly as his hand buried in his pockets. "I've been alive a long time. My very existence should be an utter impossibility, and after all that I've seen so far, meeting a medium of your caliber is not the strangest thing I have encountered."

I breathed easily by that. "I can see lots of people who have passed away, but not like her. People are so different when they go. They come to me when they feel like it; they're never just… around. But Miss Ives stays here like she did when she was alive."

"Could you tell her something for me?"

"You can tell her yourself." I told him looking to the place Miss Ives stood. "You might not see or hear her, but she can see and hear you."

"Oh, well… I don't know where to start." Then he looked down at me. "I'm sorry, but now that I think on it, I'm not sure I can speak it all with you standing there. Not to be rude it's just… it's private."

"Oh…" I shuffled my feet, disappointed immediately. Grownups were always having conversations they preferred to not discuss in front of me. I didn't understand why though. Did they think I was too dense to understand, or that it was too violent to discuss around my ears? I couldn't imagine anything that needed to be so screened.

Oh, how naïve I was.

I left when Miss Ives asked me to, lingering around the garden rather than crouched around the next corner to eavesdrop on what John would say to her. She would know if I did that and would scold me for my snooping.

In the following weeks John stayed at the cottage and in no time, became a very good friend and another teacher for me. We wandered the forest together as he taught beside Vanessa though their opinions on certain methods seemed to clash at times with John telling me one thing and Vanessa telling me something different. I felt like the monkey in the middle, translating for an invisible person while they had their argument. But it always ended in good humor. Their bickering was almost endearing.

He'd tell me stories as we walked and recount the "glory of the written word" as he put it. His voice had a way of shushing all sound and was mesmerizing to listen to. Even the birds seemed to hush their songs in favor of joining the worlds he fathomed for a few moments. Vanessa wasn't joking about his interest in poetry. He was a skilled poet through and through.

He was just as accomplished in teaching, too. In fact, there were times when he seemed to know more than Vanessa and suggested several materials of reading to me. Sometimes he asked what I had read so far, or how I liked it, or what my opinions on it were. Some of the stuff felt a little advanced for me, but he nurtured whatever poet lingered in my soul.

Once he asked me to describe the sun to him.

"It's just the sun." I said glancing towards the blinding orb. "It's big and it's bright and it's in the sky."

"Describe it creatively." He urged.

"Like a big light bulb on a wall of blue?"

He looked a bit more insistent. "That's good but try again. Think of what else the sky could look like. Think of a way to describe it like no one has before."

I looked at it, feeling silly but I thought of it anyways. My mind went to the stone and crystal collection back at the cottage and I closed my eyes to better envision it.

"Like… like a… fleck of gold on a sheet of… turquoise?"

John closed his eyes and smiled as he envisioned the picture. "Ah there it is. And the clouds. What do the clouds look like? Try and use the same elements with the minerals as you described."

I glanced at them wondering how to describe them in that context. "Like… like marble—no that's not right. They're like… like bloated giant pearls?"

He opened his eyes and smiled proudly. "They are indeed."

He fed my growing interest in rhymes and words and I found that it helped in the spells I concocted with Vanessa. Sometimes during our down time John would study or write in an old weathered down journal as I read through the numerous books Vanessa had kept, sometimes adding or inventing my own spells and rhymes to it.

I would sit on the floor in the living room and lean against the coffee table, flipping through the Book of Shadows as John lounged in the chair, enwrapped in his own manuscript. Sometimes he'd glance at me and smile and I'd look up to smile back. Those times felt like such dreamlike moments, almost too peaceful to be real for the world we lived in.

In the time when fall began to fade into winter, I finally grew to see him as a kindred spirit.

Sometimes I told him things, secret things that I would never tell anyone else. Around the town, I kept up a clever façade of strength and willpower, like what my dad lived off of, but around John I opened up a bit more, discussing whatever inner turmoil raged through me. Probably because he opened up so much to me already.

We'd walk through the forest, checking the traps and snares while we talked together.

"I say I want to be strong and never get married so I can fight monsters and hunt bears for the rest of my life. I say it so that people won't think I'm… won't think I want anything." I told him one day. "I just don't feel like I can tell them the truth and if I do… I just don't want people to know I want those things. I feel… weak. 'What am I supposed to do with a boyfriend?' I say. I feel strong with myself when I say things like that but really… I can't imagine wanting anything more than to have someone love me in that way."

John sighed, untying the dead rabbit from the snare and resetting it once again. "There was a time when I believed all I wanted was affection like that, sometimes I still do, but in time I've learned to take affection in all its forms, not just in romance. There's nothing wrong with appreciating friendship as _just_ friendship."

There was sadness in his tone and a sharp pang of sympathy struck me with those words. I wasn't clueless; I knew it must have been hard for him to find any sort of willing companion to love him when he'd been conditioned to believe he looked so off-putting and his skin was as cold as chilled marble. "Did you ever… have someone like that?"

He looked up to the sky whimsically. "Well… a few, but most were passing flings. I've shared true intimacy only in another life."

"You deserve a warrior princess," I announced from out of nowhere. "If I ever find one, I'll talk you up to her and tell her she could face battle you!"

"Face battle?"

"It's my way of saying she could kiss you. I think it sounds more impressive."

He smiled weirdly. "That's among one of the strangest and sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. I hope you find someone who will be willing to face battle you as well someday."

I grew sad again by those words. "I don't really know how well that'll work out for me. My choices are so… not many. And everyone is a lot older than me, 'sides the kids in school, and I'm not very impressed with any of them. They're all kind of dumb. I was sort of hoping that if there was ever going to be someone, then they'd be close to my age."

John stopped and I could feel his gaze on me. "Hey," he said gently, trying to catch my attention with his earnest gaze. "The world is still alive. There are other groups and other children out there. You will find someone that's worthy of you."

But his words didn't ease my gloom. I backed up, pressing against a tree as I looked to the ground. "Everyone's always saying that. 'Everything is fine, you'll find someone someday.' Let's face it; I want something that I'm just never going to have."

John's shoulders slackened. "Alright, maybe the world is very bleak at the moment, but that's what they thought back in the dark ages when the black plague swept through most of Europe and killed millions in its wake. People died in the hundreds every day, same as now, but humans figured out a way to beat that and they'll figure out a way to beat this, too. There's still hope. You haven't given up, have you? Otherwise why would you toil so much to provide for your people? Why would you work so hard every day if there was no hope?"

I wasn't sure what to say to that. His words formed a thick lump in my throat and I swallowed as I listened further.

"I've traveled around exponentially." John went on. "I've found dozens of groups and other children near your age. People adapt to their world and life goes on, whether anyone wants it to or not. Whether you, me, or even _they_ want it to."

By those words he pointed behind me and I saw a walker ambling towards us. It was quite a way's off so it hadn't reached the turning zone that seemed to surround me, but it was slowly getting nearer. I stiffened, fearing my secret would be compromised, but then I looked back at John.

This was before Enid knew my secret, before anyone but the dead knew my secret. I looked at him and the weight of such an enormous thing dragged on me.

I had never told anyone such a private dangerous thing about me. Not once. I never breathed such a thing to anyone in town. I was so terrified of Negan finding out and taking me away if such a thing was discovered. This power I had meant that I was special, but that wasn't better. I was alive maybe, but that put me in danger of other terrible things.

But this was John. He wasn't with Negan, he wasn't with anyone. He was by himself. Vanessa even said I could trust him, and I trusted Vanessa. He hadn't raised a hand to me or hurt me or so much as shouted at me in all the time that I knew him.

Even so… could I… tell him?

"John," I began hesitantly, feeling the burn of the tears behind my lids. "Can I… if I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"What kind of secret?"

"A big secret!" I said, tears sparkling in my eyes. "A big, huge, enormous, scary secret that'll mean seven worlds of horrible for me if someone I can't trust finds out."

He looked at me sympathetically, seeing the terror in my reaction. "Is it that frightening for you?"

"Yes! But can I tell you it? Vanessa says I can trust you, but I want you to tell me I can trust you, too!"

I felt him put a hand on my back, trying to ease my dread. Even through my clothes I could feel it heavy and cold, but still gentle somehow. "I want to be worthy of your trust, no doubt." He said to me. "And I would never betray your faith if you were to tell me something in confidence; I swear it. But I want you to feel you can trust me, Judith. That's what matters more than anything."

I looked at him through the drops of water, calmed a little by his words. "I… it's just that, I hear so many stories about my friends and family putting their trust in people that didn't deserve it. People that… people that hurt or killed them and things are so messed up. I don't' know what to do really. But… I think I can trust you. I'm sure I can."

"I'm humbled that you believe I could be someone you would confide in. Not many people think that of me."

I looked down, kicking my boot in the dirt. "Well we've been hanging out this whole time and you haven't done anything to hurt me or anyone else I care about, and you're nice and I think you're a good teacher and give good advice and instructions even if you and Vanessa argue. And I like listening to you, I don't say that about a lot of people but you have a nice voice. It's calming."

John looked totally stunned by those words. Then his face split into a smile, and it might have been my imagination, but I think he even blushed a little.

Then he straightened with a strange determined look on his face, "In the old days of king and country, men and women swore their allegiance to a person, place, or cause. They gave their undying loyalty and when they pledged their vows before god, they risked their everlasting souls were they to break their word." With that announcement, he knelt to my level, "Judith Grimes, I will not rush you to tell me anything you've held as secret, but should you ever confide in me in confidence I vow from this moment till the day I die that I will never reveal what you have told me, not to any man, woman, or creature that lives and breathes and thinks."

I stared at him, disbelief in my whole face. Had he really just pledged his loyalty?

I thought over his words and noticed that, no. He hadn't exactly.

He pledged his secrecy.

Was that enough though? People lied all the time. People stole and cheat and killed. But not John. Not him. Vanessa said I could trust him. And he was so different from other people. His manner was so courteous. His heart was poetic and true. I stared into his yellow eyes like two large ambers on a face of carved salt.

He wasn't like others.

I didn't think I could trust him now.

I **knew** I could trust him.

As he was kneeling I leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. "They don't come near me."

His eyes drifted towards where I pointed back to the walker. As it fixed its eyes upon me, it stopped, before slowly beginning to turn away. John stared after it and then his eyes swept towards me, a fond smile spread over his face. For some reason, he was unsurprised. Did he already know?

"May I tell you a secret?"

I wasn't sure about that. His response hadn't been anything like what I imagined it would be. That felt suspicious, but curiosity was calling loud to me and I nodded by his question.

He leaned in and whispered, "They don't come near me either."

My eyes went totally wide and my mouth dangled opened, stunned and confused by such words.

"Watch," he said simply.

He got up and followed after the walker, stepping in its path so it could see him clear and alive. It regarded him once, then just pushed around him without so much as gnashing its teeth as his throat. I stared back with my mouth hanging open, completely shocked.

"H-how?" I breathed.

He looked at me, his fond smile still on his face. "Well… that's a very long story."

* * *

 _ **Present Day  
**_

I followed the men to the detention level, where all the prisoners were kept. Somewhere within one of these cells was my uncle Daryl of whom I hadn't seen since the night Negan made him beat me. But I wasn't searching for him at the moment. My only concern at this time was for my old friend as they threw him into a cell and left him there.

I was afraid of guards but I couldn't suppress the force that drew me to him. I wanted to see my friend, I wanted to know if he was okay and what had happened to him since he left. I wanted to know if he remembered me and why he was here now.

Carefully, I tiptoed to his door, making as little noise as possible while I pressed my ear to the metal, wondering what he was doing behind it and imagining his frame as he sat or paced in wait. It was a few minutes as I listened, believing I may have heard his breathing or the quiet mechanical ticking of his clockwork heart. My fist came up and I rapped so softly on the door it was barely audible. But I knew he heard it all the same.

"Are you there then?"

His gentle poetic voice answered my knock and I felt my heart clench at the sound of it. Even in this place, it still carried something like affection; affection for me. It was him without a doubt. If I were blind and couldn't see the marble of his skin or the yellow in his eyes, I'd at least always know his voice.

"I saw you in the yard. You shouldn't be out in the rain. You'll catch a cold."

The way he spoke, it was like no time had passed at all. My eyes burned and a lump formed in my throat as my heart hammered longingly. Could he really be on the other side of this door?

"Hey!" I jumped and turned to see Dwight standing over me. His thumb jabbed to the side, issuing me to leave. "Beat it." He snapped.

Obediently, I rushed away down the hall, not a moment before Simon came around the opposite end, probably there to greet the stranger. Negan couldn't be bothered to do so himself, rare as many travelers were these days, even so. It was probably wise not to, anyways. He was a hated man, many would have loved to get the chance to kill him. So, he'd send his second to deal with any newcomers, in case they happened to be assassins. He was handled to sort them out and see where they fit in best within the fortress.

I remained hidden around a corner, deeply interested to see where this conversation would lead. I couldn't see into the room, but thanks to the hallow empty walls, the echoes at least projected their conversation well enough.

"Alrighty, friend." Simon said, cheerfully.

I hated Simon more than Negan at times.

Not only because he murdered my friend for the stupidest reason and the ghosts of many innocent young men and boys lingered near him quite often, but because he was the biggest kiss-ass in this whole place. He was such a brownnose he had even adopted some kind of bad-tasting impression of Negan—all his arrogance and no charm to be found, just like the man himself. "First off, I'd just like to introduce myself. Name's Simon, I'm the second in command in this place. Can I ask yours?"

"John Clare." I heard him say.

"Looks like we owe a thank you for saving Waylon's ass out there. Now before we get started, I just have a few questions for you. Just the standard get-to-know-you-conversation; you understand I hope? Now where did you come from exactly, John. I can tell by your accent you're a British man, it looks like."

"Yorkshire. Born and raised."

"Not there anymore, I imagine."

"Apparently."

"How'd you get to America. Were you here when the blight hit?"

"No."

"Oh, did some traveling then?"

"I traveled here on a boat about five years ago. I arrived in New York state. Made my way along the coast."

"Did you run into any groups along the way?"

"Yes."

"Mind pointing them out on a map if we got you one?"

"There's not much between here and a hundred miles from the last group I encountered. They weren't particularly friendly. They would not be the kind of people you'd like to cross paths with."

"Oh, I don't believe that." John didn't have any response for that comment so Simon continued. "What made you leave your last group?"

"I never had a group."

"You just said—"

"I _met_ groups. I never stayed with them."

"About how long have you been on your own? You don't look too bad… well in a physique sort of way at least. We found some odd things in the small bag you had. No real supplies on you, or so I heard when they brought you in."

"I had to leave it behind."

"What for?"

"I can't carry an injured man and a backpack. So, I left the backpack behind."

"And I suppose Waylon told you where to go."

"Yes."

"He shouldn't have done that. It was a big no, no. Strangers can't know where our base is. One of our rules, you see. Can't trust anyone out there."

"He was dying. He said there was a doctor here."

"There is. But still, that brings us to a bit of a dilemma. You know where this place is now, and since it looks as though you don't belong to a group at the moment, we'll be generous and let you stay here for a while."

"How kind." But it didn't sound like John thought it was kind at all.

"Now we have a way of doing things around here." Simon explained. "You can be a worker and scrape by a living by earing points to get shit, but if you're strong enough, fast enough and smart enough, you get to be a Savior and live the good life."

There was darkness in John's next words, weighed down with all the baggage he carried through the decades. "I am no one's Savior."

"Then you can work." Simon said simply. "You'll be given a job in the morning. In the meantime, sleep tight. Tomorrow's a busy day."

The conversation looked like it was over and the men filed out of the cell, locking it as they exited. I turned to go before anyone caught me eavesdropping, thinking their conversation over in my head. What did this mean exactly?

John was here now, but _why_ was he here? The last time we saw each other, he told me we would never meet again and I truly believed those words.

So why was he here?

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: Well, I finally introduced you to John. I've only been hinting about him for fifty-six chapters. Glad you guys were finally able to meet him.**_

 _ **As always, if you guys have any questions or comments, please feel free to leave a review. I really, really appreciate them.**_

 _ **Hope you all have a great Halloween!**_

 _ **Luv ya lots!**_


	57. The Beast's Tale

**Chapter 57  
The Beast's Story**

I wanted more than anything to find John and to embrace him. Then I'd tell him everything that happened since he left and hopefully unload some of the horrible, awful things that had been done to me since coming here. With him here now, I felt an indistinguishable sense of safety, but it was marred by the act I was forced to keep up.

I still hadn't been able to approach him. To talk to him and let him hold me. More than anything, I wanted to fall into those arms, where there was safety and security inside, just like when I was little.

He may have been the only living person in the world that knew me completely. Knew all the things that I struggled with. Even if it was years ago, I hadn't changed so much that he would no longer recognize me. He himself could not have been so different

* * *

 _ **Flashback**_

"I don't understand. You're like me?"

We had gone back to the island, sharing a pot of tea with honey as John explained the phenomenon.

"No… not like you, Judith. I've never seen anyone like you." He glanced down at his large pale hand and flexed it. "The dead ones don't harm me because they believe… I'm one of them."

"What? Do you mean your coat is covered with…"

"No. Not that way." He cut me off, knowing I was regarding the messy trick of covering an outer layer of clothes with walker guts and blood to mask a person's scent so they could sneak within a horde undetected. Some people used that tactic to get passed the walkers as a last resort in dire situations.

"It's just me." John put a hand to his chest as he gripped his mug of steaming tea. "Judith, I don't know how much of my story you'll even believe. It's too strange and too unbelievable to be true. Even a child wouldn't believe it."

I sat up straighter in my chair, puffing my chest up purposefully. "I believe in ghosts and monsters and witches and zombies and Santa himself! How unbelievable could it possibly be for me to believe?"

There was an additional look of guilt on him. "It's not a very happy story either. I've... I've done things, Judith. Very terrible things. I may have even killed people and you might just hate me after you hear what I tell you."

"Everyone I know has killed people." I told him. "If it was for a reason, I could forgive you for that."

He regarded me skeptically, before finally sighing. "Alright, let me start at the beginning then."

* * *

 **John**

I am very old. The oldest man you've ever met. Even if you look at me very close you would never guess my age correctly.

I am twenty-two and one hundred years.

I've lived two lives. The first was ever brief. I lived to my fortieth year and fathered a single son Jack with a woman named Margery, though I did not remember them till years after my transformation. I can only assume there had been an accident that led to a tragic death. In truth I can't remember what happened, how I may have passed from that life. But what I do know is that my remains were quickly collected by a scientist that sought to create life from out of death and with me, he found success.

It was a difficult birth, there was no doubt. I was born in sheer, terrified agony. This was not the Protean man my creator envisioned. This was not a golden triumph over morality, the lyrical Adonais of which Shelley wrote.

This was abomination.

I woke to screams pouring from my mouth, much like the wails of a newborn babe… yet proper fathers do not flee the sound of his children's shrieks.

The first human action that I experienced was rejection. I waited, but my father did not return. I was abandoned, left to learn the ways of the world on my own. Has there ever been a creature that was so alone… so utterly helpless? Was every newborn creature abandoned the moment they were born?

No. Only one.

The laboratory that gave me life served as much my sanctuary as my prison. There was a window I would look through. It became my salvation and my tutor as I learned the ways of man and all his cruelty. What he valued and what he despised. How animals were treated…

There was no doubt in my mind that I was an animal.

How could there be a doubt? Was it not a countenance made for predation?

Forgive me. I forget who my audience is.

Eventually, I learned words and how to speak. There were books that I flipped through; my creator's beloved volumes of poetry were my primers. And after some time studying the markings inscribed within, I gradually remembered the skill to read.

From the penciled notations I discovered among them, I realized my creator favored Wordsworth and the old Romantics. No wonder he fled from me. I am not a creation of the antique pastoral world.

I am modernity personified.

Did he know that's what he was creating? The modern age?

Once I resolved to track my father I knew where to look. I knew in which occupation I would find him engaged; the cutting of flesh, the work of the surgeon, and the butcher.

And so, I came to his city: London; cruel as the Harlot's curse.

That first day I was assaulted by a group of men, whom were repulsed by the twistedness of my face. They beat me till I could not move from petrifying terror and once they satisfied their need for vehemence, they left.

And so, it was how I learned mankind's capacity for hatred… and mercy, in a single night.

A man saw me crumpled on the ground. Perhaps he was merely curious to see who it was and the moment he caught sight of the whiteness of my skin and the winding scar on my face, his expression broke with a smile and he offered me a drink.

He was charismatic, declaring out of nowhere that he would buy me dinner. Once my belly was filled, I sat silently as I listened to his theatrical anecdotes. He was a skilled actor and a captivating storyteller and I listened as though I had never heard sound or words in all my life. And in that one dinner, he offered to take me to his land of drama, sonnets, comedy and gore. He took me straight to the land of dreams and horror and called it the Grand Guignol.

He gave me my name there; Caliban after the subhuman son of the malevolent witch Sycorax. It was a suitable fit but not one I dually preferred.

And so, I discovered what kindness was.

Could there have been a more appropriate place for me? Night after night the players died gruesomely and then came back to life again for the next show. They were undying, like me, creatures of perpetual resurrection.

But I was not welcomed by all. How could I, with this face, fit with ease amongst the mortal and the beautiful? I learned to stay in the shadows to protect the heart my creator gave me. Still, I remained with the stage and I proved an able and agile worker. He made me strong and tireless. If only he had made me handsome. Once I found my occupation at the theater, it was simple to slip out at night and hunt for my maker.

I found where he lived soon enough and stalked him for several days before night I finally chose to reveal myself. That day, I saw him progressing with another of my kind; a younger brother, as it were.

I felt such rage as I watched him and this new creation he had brought into the world. I watched this thing in its strange docility, and realized with bitterness that this had been his ideal creation. Not the horror of his roaring, wailing firstborn that was me and my birth.

I lingered by as this thing interacted with the world like a child seeing for the first time. How curious and innocent he looked. A bitter seed of jealousy rose in me at the sight of it all.

I must admit that I was furious, and the actions that followed haunt me to this day. What I did, is for sure, a stain I will never scrub out of my soul.

I concealed myself in the shadows of my creator's lab, and when the fledgling was in reach I drove my hand through his heart. I slew my kin and wiped the blood of his death over my creator, declaring my disgust in his abandonment and this irate attempt to replace me. I told him my story and demanded what I wanted of him.

A companion—a mate, in my image and make so we could witness the years together and fear not of being alone as mankind lived and died around us.

This is what I asked of him. I demanded this and promised to slay all those nearest him if he did not give me what I was owed for his carelessness and neglect. He agreed, but time wore on and I grew impatient with his procrastinating. I intended to remind him of his promise and slew an acquaintance. The merciless brutality of that act haunts my dreams still. How much like a child I acted! Impatient and screaming like a toddler whose parent would not give him a toy. Decades have passed and I remain appalled by my tantrum.

And then I lost my job at the theater.

In my mission for affection I misread one of the actress's gestures of friendship and kindness as romantic advances. I was ashamed, I am still ashamed.

I had to grow so much in that first year, and on my own, too.

My maturity was somewhat eased by the introduction of a singular friend; Miss Ives.

I met her in the catacombs beneath the city where other dejected creatures collected when there was no shelter for us above. It was a squalor and many who gathered there lived in poor conditions with little privacy. But at least it was a roof and it was a cut above wandering the streets in the evening. It was there that I met her.

The first thing she did was offer me a bowl of soup. It was tepid at best and lacked flavor, but it filled the stomach and it was at least better than nothing. She was friendly and for some reason she was drawn to me, taking a seat next to me and scarcely reacting to my complexion as we engaged in conversation. We encountered one another many times after trading conversation back and forth and a refreshing friendship inspired.

I was grateful to her, though I still longed for the companionship of a true mate.

At last my creator prepared to forge me a bride, but his skills had refined since me. He made her too beautiful, too perfect for me. I was the prototype of his vision and she was his masterpiece. She was repelled by the entitlement I implied to her. She was not mine; I could not expect her to fall into my arms at my command. She was not a toy or a slave. She felt and thought and moved to her own tune. Even this creation that had been sculpted especially for me was not really mine.

Again, I was a fool.

So, I left, accepting what I was and what would always be; people would not love what they would not love. So, I would go to the furthest reaches of the world, to the coldest most remote wasteland I found. Only I never made it that far. My first life, the life my body lived before the fatal accident that brought his grisly death and my repugnant rebirth, returned to me in those years and called me back to London.

I remembered my family; my wife Margery and my son, Jack. My beautiful little boy whom I left behind in death.

Before this transformation I was a living man with an occupation, a home, and people who did love me. How could I have abandoned the ones who cared so for me? They were all alone. The closer I came back to them the more that affection for those people returned to me.

When I found them at last, my wife was working day and night in a filthy coal factory, polluting the air she breathed with soot and ash. The two were living in the poorest of homes, with only filth to breathe in. My son, my little son, was deathly ill and so weak and there was no money they could earn to find him proper medicine. I was filled with a bitter resentment that it was not enough for my life to suffer, but those I cared for were, too.

So, I took to robbery. I took to waiting in the dark to stalk and ambush rich aristocrats, taking all they had on them and vanishing in the dark, like a drop in the ocean.

The money I took was given to them in secret for I was frightened to return to them in this state. I couldn't stay away forever, though, I should have. When I revealed myself to my son he was frightened and screamed in horror for what I had turned into. I fled from him feeling more pain from this single rejection than all the insults in the world.

As much as I wished I were able, I could not stay away. But before I saw them again I sought out Miss Ives once again for her friendship and some advice, desperately in need of guidance for the best way I should proceed. She was encouraging and I felt better once I had spoken to her. In addition, she revealed that she and I had known each other in the life I had led before, though I held no memory of it and it had taken her time to recall it all herself.

At least now I understood better why she was able to accept me where others had not.

The next time I revealed myself was to my wife, this time with care and caution surrounded by people so that if she wished to flee she would not feel trapped.

To my astonishment she did not shy away but embraced me, taking me by the hand and reintroducing me to my son.

He did not scream this time. I should have known better than to reveal to him in his fevered state. Now that he could see me better, he saw his father again.

We lived for a few weeks in a surreal bubble of strangeness. I was there but the man they loved was not. I was too different, too altered, and I hated how I could not be the man they loved anymore.

In time, mortality and sickness took Jack from us. My wife pleaded with me to return to my maker and ask to resurrect him as I had been, but I advised against it. My time in this life was not kind, and I feared cursing my son with an identical fate.

This is not life. What I am is no longer flesh and bone. This body is as artificial as petrified wood. To impose such an existence on a child would be far worse. They would never again grow to become an adult. Their mind may mature, but they would be doomed to toil forever in an adolescent body, yearning for growth but never achieving it.

My wife presented me with an ultimatum: return with our son resurrected or don't return at all.

So, I did not return.

His body I laid to rest in the waves of the river, carried away as swiftly and calmly as the ending of a bitterly sweet tune, existing only in memory.

I sought the comforting words of a friend and thought I would be at least able to revisit Miss Ives to seek her advice once again. But it was not to be.

The same day I put my son to rest in the river was the same day Miss Ives was being put to rest in the Earth. I knelt at her grave, overwhelmed with dysphoria and feeling the strength of so much loss in one day.

In just one day I lost my son, my wife, and my friend. It should not have been allowed for one single person to experience so much loss all at once.

I experienced a great depression after that, and I returned to Miss Ives' grave every night to find peace in sleep atop it. It was not true sleep, though, for I do not actually require it.

One night though, as I curled on the dirt, I heard a stirring underneath me, which brought me out of my rest. It startled me so much that I sat up in alarm to see what was happening. There was a loud pounding and I leapt away in surprise as something burst out of the grave.

I thought at first it may have been a demon, or a cemetery ghoul as they emerged from a grisly feast of rot and worms. Instead, it was Miss Ives crawling from the hole herself.

I was uncertain about this and admittedly afraid—who wouldn't be after all? But despite my fear I did not flee from her. I knew only too well what it was like to be feel rejection.

This miraculous resurrection was extreme in many different ways. It was much like the way I had been born anew, yet if it weren't for my unexpected attendance, she may have emerged from the earth alone and been left to learn on her own as I had done so. But I was with her, and I helped her the best I was able to.

She was very much like a newborn those first few weeks. There was little she actually remembered, but as it gradually came back to her, she explained to me of her tragic death... but that story is for another day.

Returning to the catacombs of London, we stayed there just long enough for us to recover while I simultaneously nursed her back to something resembling her former self. It was not an ideal place to live. Then she remembered someplace she expected we would be safe and that was how we found ourselves living in an old witch's hut.

It was a very odd place, but comforting at the same time somehow.

We lived there for a while peacefully, but peace does not always last. Vanessa's mind had changed since her resurrection. She received an odd dream one night, foretelling disaster upon our tranquil existence. The coming of the Great War was looming and she saw the bombs fall over our peaceful hut and reduce it to fire and ash. So we decided to leave.

I did not know where we intended to go and when confiding in Venessa, she would not elaborate. She still tried to ease my worries though, as we crossed the Atlantic and assured me that something would lead us the way.

We arrived in Boston and traveled South without map or reason why. I remained confused about our continued ambiguity but Vanessa repeatedly assured me that it was all with purpose. Finally, we reached the capitol of the States and I stood by my companion in confusion for this questionable choice of relocation. Vanessa continued to lead us the way until we found this place. The destruction was a few years old but the pagans never returned to it.

And this is where we built this home. My room was in the basement and hers in the attic. At that time, it was a very cozy area and I enjoyed the dark as I worked. The war that would destroy our old home soon started and the world was all but tossed upside down as the bombs fell over Europe. As saddening as it had been to leave our home, I was very grateful that we left when we had the chance.

They called it the Word War when it began. Countries against other countries and it seemed like there would be no end in sight at times.

When it was over, we both breathed a sigh of relief. For a few more decades we lived together and over time, I realized that neither she nor I had changed very much. Miss Ives aged, but slowly, like a tortoise or a tree, which is how she lived for so long; that is, before she met her final fate.

Our lives were self-sufficient and sheltered for the most part. We rarely made ventures into populated hamlets, except to buy or sell goods on occasion. Vanessa seemed content with this life, but in time, I grew bored and restless with such a stagnant existence and decided to travel out on my own. Mind you, it took a great amount of courage to do so. My prior experience with the world had not been kind, but the world grew more and more as time went by and I was curious and ready to explore it once again.

Vanessa would not join me though. So, we said goodbye to each other and parted ways.

I traveled around both North and South America, acquiring transport when I could find it and learning any trade that caught my fancy. I found I enjoyed learning; since the first moment I took breath in this odd life, it had been something I had always been exceptional at. After all, I had to teach myself much about the world as a fledgling. Imagine what I accomplished when I had proper tutors. If there was a knowledge I was in ignorance of, I sought it and studied until I achieved personal mastery. For the most part it was an enjoyable life, though I would never truly be free from the persecution of others.

My travels soon led me back to Europe, and through misfortune I found myself in Poland on a very bad night. Even after decades passed, I still have trouble sorting out what happened. There was fire and guns and before I knew it, someone had thrown me in the back of a truck and a few men managed to overpower me as they restrained my hand and legs with chains. A bag was thrown over my head and there was only darkness and offset voices while I tried to makes sense of what was going on.

In time, I found myself at the bottom of a cage, and in time a Nazi laboratory.

The lead scientist of that organization was familiar with my father's work and it was eventually revealed that the man leading this repugnant expedition was a previous student of my father's and soon I discovered copies of his original notes and journals among this man's things. His mission was much like Frankenstein's, though his mission was not sought for the glory of man but for his domination. This scientist sought to find the secret to ever-lasting life and had paid a king's ransom to anyone who could hunt down my master's old creations. had not heard of anything regarding Frankenstein since I left that final time. I did not even know if he made others after Lily. If he had learned anything, he wouldn't have.

I will say this about him, as neglectful as my father had been towards me, I did not believe his intentions had true malice in them. Not like this man's.

As much as the scientist studied though, he only had a partial copy of my father's instructions. So the man was forced to discover other methods to achieve his goal.

I suffered unspeakable torture at the hands of Nazi scientists and saw unspeakable torture being done to others. They did things you can't possibly imagine, things I will never speak of with anyone. I stayed captive there for years and years while they performed their cruelty on my body. They left their marks upon me, altering me from the inside out.

Finally, one day, one of the guards had been careless and I broke free from my restraints. That one mistake was enough for me, to bring that tower I suffered in, crumbling down on top of everything they were trying to build. In a single moment all their heinous crimes and experiments were snuffed out.

And I emerged from it all as if being reborn all over again.

When I found safety again, I discovered that several of my tormenters had escaped the blaze and I vowed that I would not rest until I hunted each and every single one of them down and slayed them.

After that day, I searched for them for years, always on their trail but always a step behind them. Sometimes I found one, only to loose the others like they had vanished. Whole decades seemed to pass before I picked up their trail again and I had to find ways to occupy myself till I was able to continue my search. Usually, it seemed I could find their scraps and their creatures, but I could never find them.

Finally, the day came when I at last tracked them down in the wastes of the Nevada Desert. The torture I endured by their hands, which they had labeled "experiments" had not been entirely fruitless for them as their aging had, in kind, been slowed to a crawl. Their youth was theirs and they had all the time in the world to use it how they wished. There was always more for them to test, and the experiments continued as they had before.

I almost lost myself looking for my revenge, but I prevailed and killed them along with everything I could find in that underground bunker I tracked them to.

I found my revenge not long before the dead began to rise, but since I technically died over a century before, the dead see me as one of their own.

One battle finished, just as another began.

That is where I have been for so long and why I have returned now to tell Vanessa where I was for so long; why I could not come back to her even when I wished to.

* * *

 **Judith**

He ended with those final words and I looked at him, sorrow and hurt aching in my chest for him. It was so horrible and unfair—all of what he had to endure for so, so long. I got up from my seat and walked around so I could give him a hug. He was stiff for a moment but eventually returned it in kind.

His whole story was just so sad and it hurt to know that even during a time that I assumed was supposed to be better, he had been held prisoner and put under the worst conditions in the world. The realization that such a thing had been done to someone who was so kind and generous, made my chest hurt and my eyes sting.

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better."

He leaned into my embrace, smiling softly. "The simple fact that you _want_ to make me feel better already _makes_ me feel better."

I hugged him a long moment, before at last pulling away and looking up at him. "I have so many questions for you, John, but I just want to say, I'm sorry you're hurting. I'm sorry you had to go through so much awful, but I hope you know that you're welcomed to stay here or in Alexandria with us, for always if you want. I won't ever treat you bad and I won't let anyone else do it either, because I know you now and I know you're good."

His gazed at me as if trying to find something in my face that would imply deceit. Maybe since it was all he knew, he could expect nothing less from me as well. Somehow, he couldn't find it though, and he smiled with my sincerity.

"Thank you for your words. It means so much to me."

"You're welcome."

* * *

 _ **Present day**_

Those days were bitter sweet for me and I yearned for the moment when I could speak with my dear friend and embrace him as I had done so after he told me his tale, sad as it was.

This time, he would have to embrace me after I told him my own sad tale.


	58. Only in a Memory

**Chapter 58  
Only in Memory**

John's presence was bringing back all sorts of memories. I returned to my room, curling on my bed and closed my eyes as a swarm overpowered me.

* * *

 _ **Flashback**_  
"Don't leave John."

"I'm coming right back." The man consoled. It did not dispel my worry though as we looked upon the condemned structure. John had steered me towards an abandoned minivan and deposited me inside to wait for his return while he looked through the building.

"It's a medical facility." He tried to explain. "There could be something useful here that hasn't been scavenged. There's hidden treasures everywhere if you know where to look. I'll only be a moment."

"But… but what if someone's already in there and they're dangerous? What if you get hurt?" I had heard stories from my own family of people making a decision based on poor judgment about buildings like that and paid for it with a heavy cost. The stories of Terminus and how narrowly our people had avoided those cannibals often plagued my worst nightmares. I had been no more than a baby at the time, protected by Tyrese while Carol became a one-woman army. As inspiring as the anecdote was at times, it was equally as chilling. One of the few battles they didn't mind speaking about too much, because unlike our adversaries, none of our side lost lives that day.

I had no doubt that John could organize just as efficiently as that legendary woman, but it didn't keep me from worrying about him, just as it didn't keep me from missing Carol now that she had left to be on her own.

But John only smiled warmly. "Don't worry. I'm a lot stronger than any normal man and the dead won't harm me, but your concern is touching, nevertheless. I'll be right back."

He slid the door closed and I pressed against the glass, watching him go.

We had already found a decent amount of fresh food from the forest, like wild greens and animal biproducts along with some other things left in old houses. Most of it had been picked clean already, but we occasionally got lucky and discovered substantially useful things that had somehow been overlooked by other people because they did not spawn an immediate result for a traveler's needs.

Things like yeast, baking soda, cooking starch, shortening, baking powder, kitchen chemicals, sewing materials, clean cloth, sheets, blankets, towels, infant items, stationary, and odd and end implements were often over-looked within homes and didn't tend to be easy to pack around if one was traveling for extended periods. But for our people, these tools were crucial. I couldn't even begin to explain the full-on miracle that was baking soda itself. It was a key ingredient for countless functions and was used in almost everything: soap, toothpaste, deodorant, disinfectant, itch relief, rash relief, cleaner, unclogging drains, oil and grease removal, and of course baking! To say that was all would be wrong. That was barely the half of what you could accomplish with the magic powder.

For all it was good for, we tended to discover at least one forgotten box of it left behind in any and every building we went through. I thanked earlier scavengers for not seeing the use of this little thing themselves while they were rifling through everything else.

In the car I tried to make myself comfortable as I waited with the rest of the supplies. In time I was waiting so long that I fell asleep. When I woke again, the sun was low in the sky and John still wasn't back yet.

Panicked and thinking that he had to have been in trouble, I got out from the car and rushed at the building. Inside, I lit my flashlight and looked around the dark interior. The building was in much the same state as so many other abandoned buildings.

It didn't take me long to find something that made me panic. John's bag for foraging was on the ground and he was nowhere in sight. In the dust that covered the ground I saw footprints, one pair belonged to some hard-soled shoes like John's boots. Then I caught sight of three others that I didn't recognize.

There must have been a struggle then.

This scared me even worse. If John ran into people who were dangerous, people who were strong enough to overpower him, then there was no telling what could have been happening to him right now.

What could I do?

My flashlight searched the ground, following their footprints through the dust and spotted them leading away. John's prints had also stopped, and instead there appeared to be distinct lines scuffed up in the dust, almost like the strangers had been dragging something as they were escaping.

John.

Tiptoeing, I pursued, hopeful that my friend was not lying in a pool of his own blood and all his parts would be attached to him when I saw him next.

The prints led me further into the building. When they came to a crude opening in a wall leading down to a dugout hole that opened wide like a daunting basement, or a haunted cave. I stopped and was terrified at the idea of journeying so deep into darkness.

I couldn't go down there. It was too dark and my imagination played wild tricks on me, filling my head with horror stories of awful things with teeth and claws; things that were hungry and eager for the taste of children wandering down to them.

But my friend was in trouble. I couldn't just leave him. What if he was being hurt?

Somehow that thought frightened me more than my own bodily harm and I summoned enough courage to lower myself into the hole.

The one thing that kept me going was the knowledge that, for some reason or another, walkers weren't interested in me. They didn't want me. They fled from me in fact. As long as I kept that in mind, then I would be okay.

But walkers weren't the only monsters that existed. Sometimes the worst monsters where the ones that existed in people.

As I continued to walk, I began to hear faint voices. My ears perked more as one of them I recognized as John's. With that, my strides quickened as I walked faster towards him.

 _Don't worry_ , I said telepathically to him. _I'm coming, John. Just hang on._

The voices eventually became clearer and I struggled to listen to the conversation between my friend and his attacker.

"What do you intend to accomplish with so much death? Hasn't there been enough suffering in the world?"

"You don't understand, young one." Said another voice, a smooth melodic voice that sent a strange wave of goosebumps rising over my skin. "I'm not like you. You're animated death, not far off from the creatures that wander the wilderness. You don't truly require sustenance because your body does not see itself as alive. Those creatures don't actually need it either. All that remains with them is baser instincts that drives them to pursue it.

"Me, on the other hand? Their fear is necessary. There is much fear in the world. These days it fills the air so deep, I could fill my belly with merely the stench. Sadly, it is not enough. There are very few people alive these days and I must be careful not to kill too many off. But those that wander… well nobody misses those on their own."

I saw light up ahead and neared an opening at last. Looking down in a cavern I saw a circle of lit torches. Two large iron boxes, a lot like metal storage containers, stood in opposite corners of it. I wasn't sure what was in them and I had a feeling I didn't really want to know.

In the center of the cavern was a man and across from him, chained to the wall was John.

I lowered to the ground, feeling my panic increase at the sight of him in danger. How was I going to get down there to him?

The man, the stranger, was someone I had never seen before in my life. For some reason, he was very handsome. He was clean and his features were chiseled and fine. He had dark hair combed back and young, green eyes, and of all his strange features the strangest I had seen so far was the suit he wore. It was one of those old business suits I'd seen people wear from movies and magazines. I had never seen anyone wear one in person and it seemed so alien to see it on someone now. Especially someone I was distinctly aware was a villain.

My eyes scanned back over to John as he crouched where he was bound. There had to be some way I could get down to him. There was a narrow path I could use but trying would not end in my favor. John's back was towards me and the stranger faced him. If I tried to go down, it would draw his attention and then what would I do?

I tried to find alternate routes but the only other way into the cavern was an opening at the other end. My only chance was to wait for him to turn his back and see if I could hastily make it down and hide once I reached the bottom.

"It's really the kindest I've ever been. I don't keep covens any more. Too many mouths to feed, and human life is precious these days. You don't realize how much you depend on it until your food supply begins to deplete. No, I drain them and kill them quickly; merciful you under—"

At that moment his eyes looked up and he saw me. I felt my heart stop dead in my chest, terrified of his previous words. What was this man? A cannibal like the ones my family had fought?

He smiled and looked towards John, a smirk on his face. "You brought a friend with you."

His gaze turned and looked to where the man had spotted me and I watched as his expression grew desperate and disappointed. If he could look paler, I had a feeling he would have been.

The man's hand extended, beckoning me. "Come here, little one. Are you looking for your friend? He's here and I have not hurt him. Come and see for yourself."

His voice hit me like some kind of terrifying enchantment. For some reason I knew he was attempting to cast a spell on me. It made me want to obey him and almost all reason and concern for refusing flew out the window at the very sound of his voice.

Yet the transparency of his attempt was still apparent, and my stubbornness caused me to shakily step back in refusal.

He saw this and his brow went up in shock. Clearly it was not what he had expected nor wanted.

" **Come here.** " He demanded, more insistently. His spell was stronger this time and I could feel the pull of it bringing me two steps closer to the path that led down. Yet I still hesitated, gripping the wall for support as I tried to refuse. I didn't want to do it. This man was luring me to him. He sounded so nice and inviting, but my instincts were on high alert, especially since now I knew he was a magic user.

Was he a witch—or I guess a warlock in this case? Or was he some kind of other terrifying monster that promised death or dismemberment if I dared come any closer? He said he ate people, could that have been true?

But then I thought about John. The only way I could help him was if I went down there. That man already knew I was there, and even if I tried to run, he would be after me in no time flat. Maybe it was better to cooperate… for now.

Shakily, I started down the earthy path, keeping my eyes always on the man. When I had refused him, there was a distinct look of fury on his face that set me on edge, but once I had begun to comply with his second insistence his features softened to take on that inviting expression once again. However, his eyes remained wary as he scrutinized me carefully the closer I came to him.

I passed John, and we both shared a look of repressed fear for the other.

Finally, I was right in front of the man and the smile he gave me was strangely gentle.

"You're here for your friend. You know him as John. I call him Caliban."

"I'll ask you nicely." I announced, collecting my courage as I straightened to my full height, which wasn't much. I wasn't going to give him another shot at pulling that spell on me a second time. "Please let him go, and I won't hurt you."

My announcement seemed to shock him. "You think _you_ will hurt me? That is not a simple feat for anyone."

"I will, if you hurt John in any way."

He seemed to lose his gentle kindly expression with my announcement as he looked towards John angrily. "What is this creature you have found? It is no common human."

John didn't offer an explanation, only a reasoning for why he should comply. "You mustn't harm her. She will do what she promises and you will have no power to stop her."

" **What is she?** " He demanded in that same enchanted voice he had carried from before.

It hit John with a strange sort of tangibility and he seemed to struggle against it. His form bowed and he seemed to be in pain as he spoke. "I don't… know."

"STOP!" I yelled at the man, stepping forward to push at him angrily. "Stop hurting my friend!"

The man seemed to shake himself with my own furious demand and took a step back with the force of my order. Then he recovered as he grabbed my arm and marched towards John. "What is this creature you have brought down here. She is not normal. She…" he looked back at me as if hoping the correct description would be somewhere on my face, "she is _unnatural_."

"Like you?" John hissed, trying to make it back to his knees.

"How dare you bring this thing down here!"

"You won't hurt her." He deduced, sensing something I couldn't— _knowing_ something I didn't. I looked from one to the other, wishing more than anything that one of them would explain, already. "You wouldn't dare, not until you've figured out what she is."

What on earth did they mean by that? What was I supposed to be other than human? Could it have been because I was a witch? Was that what he meant?

The stranger looked down at me, regarding with some expression that seemed nameless from my perspective. Finally, without bothering to offer any explanation he turned and dragged me down the other entrance.

"I may not be able to hurt her now, but when I find out what she is, I will find out what I shall do with her. Perhaps I will sell her to others that will offer more detail towards her lineage, since you are so lost for answers."

"No, please! Just let her be! She's of no use to you! You'll see in time!" John's hasty pleads were lost the further we went down.

"What are you going to do with John?!" I demanded, feeling more concerned about that then my own welfare. "Don't hurt him! Don't hurt my friend!"

"He is in no danger." He said, easing my worries though I'm not sure that had been in intention. "You on the other hand, should worry more for your own preservation. Once I find out what you are, I will determine what sort of use I can gain from you."

" _What I am_?" I repeated in disbelief. "I'm human… aren't I?"

His grip on my wrist tightened and his voice no longer sounded like the friendly one it had before. Instead, now it sounded so frightening and guttural that I cringed away at how dangerous he sounded. "Don't lie to me! I know human stench when I smell it, and you are certainly not human."

"Well what are _you_ then? Because I'm pretty sure you're not human either!"

He dragged me into a strange room where the only things inside were several empty cages. He stopped in front of one and threw me inside, slamming the door with an echoing BANG before locking it tersely.

"I'm your captor, that's all you need know about me."

I got up quickly, gripping the bars as I yelled at him. "I can't stay here! My dad'll kill me! He doesn't know I'm out!"

He responded by locking the cage. "Better for me then."

"No! Let me out!"

As if on cue, there was a large booming from the entrance. "What the hell is that fool doing? Does he really think he'll escape from those chains?"

The possibility gave me hope. "John! John, if you're free get out of here!"

The man left, taking with him the only torch that illuminated the room, leaving me in darkness.

Down the hall I could hear muffled cries of alarm. Then there was another bang and the sounds of moans drifted down the hall followed by several loud shouts of anger.

What was happening down there? Everything was dark, and I couldn't hear what was happening.

After several frightening minutes of no reply, someone came barreling into the entrance again. Yet it was still dark and I couldn't tell who it was until he spoke.

"Beetle!"

"John!" I gasped. "You should have gone."

"Without you?"

"Yes! I don't want you hurt again."

There was a noise he made in response to those words, some sort of choked noise and his faint outline seemed to freeze as the words washed over him.

"John?" I said again, wondering what he was doing. My voice seemed to jar him into action once again.

"You… you mustn't worry so much about me. You are far more fragile than I." I could feel him come closer and there was the moan and snap of metal as John bent it away from the bars. I felt his hands on me as he lifted me from the cage. "And I would never be able to live knowing you are imprisoned somewhere."

"I'll be okay. He wasn't planning on hurting me after all."

"Momentarily perhaps. But intentions change. I would never consciously leave you with such a person."

"Where is he now?"

"Handled."

Down the path I saw the glow of the other torches as we neared. One of them had fallen onto some furniture and a small fire had risen from the carelessness. The echoing moans of walkers drowned out all other sound as we approached the entrance and it looked like they had been occupying one of the two storage units since the doors were smashed opened and they were pouring out at the moment. The contents of the other one remained a mystery.

John looked towards the walkers and considered them before looking towards the other metal box.

"Come on, we must free them."

"The walkers?"

"No, the people inside."

"People? But they'll see. They'll see me and the walkers." I looked back as the dead bodies in question began to migrate towards the back and away from me.

"There isn't time to worry about that." John explained, gripping hold of the chain and snapping it opened.

The door creaked loudly and opened to reveal several weary looking people, holding their heads almost like they were recovering from an intense migraine.

"Are you all okay?"

They looked out at John's question. Somehow, they were so overcome with their own pain that they didn't quite see the person whom was addressing them.

"Oh god." Moaned one man, looking like he was about to throw up. "I feel like my hangover is partying with the flu."

"What's wrong with them?" I asked John.

"They've been previously hypnotized. It's left them very weak." He came inside and slung one of the heavier men's arms around his shoulders, steadying him as he swayed. "Come on Beetle, we need to get them to safety."

They all seemed eager enough to escape from the storage unit and didn't seem to give much interest in the walkers that were in the corner. I guess their main focus was trying to keep their headaches at bay. With them filing out I counted twelve of them all together. It was a fairly large group. The man to imprison all of them must have used the same spell he'd tried to use on me. Again, I wondered how I had managed to resist it.

As they all rushed up the earthy path John hesitated waiting till the last of them had disappeared into the tunnel.

"John?" I looked up at him, "what is it?"

I was cut off just then as something gripped me from the back of my collar and hoisted me right off my feet.

" **Did you think you were going somewhere?!** "

I heard the terrifying voice of our would-be-captor behind me, shaking me as he used me as a hostage while he faced John.

"Ow! Let me go!"

"Malcom, let her go." John growled. "This is between us."

" **Oh no, you've dragged her into this fine mess. That's what you do, isn't it? Drag others into your messes. I would have thought you would learn after the first town of casualties you've been responsible for!** "

He backed up with me and passed a torch in his haste. Instinctively, my hand reached for it, gripping hard as I jammed it mercilessly into the eye of the monster that ensnared me.

An earsplitting roar nearly deafened me as his grip finally loosened and I dropped from his hands. When I looked back at him, I saw his entire half blazing with fire. It was only a brief moment before John rushed forward and took me up in his own arms again, rushing back up the path after the people who'd escaped already. Behind me I saw the glow of the loose fire getting brighter as it grew more and more out of hand. There was a loud explosion and John was thrown off his feet, bringing me with him. The ground shook and dust and rock fell around us. John had crawled over me, using his bulk to protect me against the rain of earth that fell over us.

"What was that?" I asked in terror.

"Dynamite! I saw some in a crate behind one of the storage units. We need to get out before—"

Another explosion cut his words off immediately. The ground shook more, making his attempt to get up clumsy, but he still managed to take me in his arms again and sprint as fast as he could through the exit.

More explosions shook the ground and the building of the medical facility gave a dangerous groan before it collapsed. John and I reached the doors right as it was falling to pieces. Once we were out safely, we gave a nervous glance at the wreckage right as the earth and a tower of fire seemed to swallow it whole.

I shuddered in John's arms as I thought of how close to that terrifying death we had both been.

At last, the air was quiet and we stared on at the sight of the burning sinkhole. Twilight had fallen as we had been stuck in the ground and in the back of my mind, I knew my people would be beside themselves with worry for where I had wondered off to. But that seemed to be a distant concern at the moment.

The thing that was far more pressing where the strangers that joined us. The people that had been trapped in the storage unit stood with us, just as entranced at the sight as we were.

"What the fuck just happened?" One of them murmured.

Our attention turned to the various strangers. Now that the main threat had been dealt with, we were able to study them better, and vice versa. They were all different, ranging from ethnicity to age, though there looked to be a trio among them that I assumed were together considering they wore the clothing remains of a Catholic nun, a priest, and a monk. As for the others, it was anyone's guess whether the strangers had been together or not.

"I think it's apparent." The nun said, holding her head. "We've just escaped our own abductions and quite possibly our deaths."

"You saved us, strangers." The elderly monk deduced. "The Lord always provides, doesn't he?"

"I don't know if it was the Lord's work." A man with tattoos proclaimed, "but I'm glad we're out of that hellhole. Shit, I still feel nauseous. What the fuck happened to us down there?"

"John?" I tugged on his sleeve. "Should we… take them back?"

"Do you have a community?" A woman asked. "I've been on the road for weeks, trying to find something like civilization. I could really use a shower."

"Emma, no! Look at that guy!"

"Fuck, I had a backpack with me. Must've lost everything in there."

John pointed to the van where our own collection of scavenged supplies was. "We can't lead you all back to our home, but there are some things in the van you all may have. We were going to use them, but I think you need them more."

"Thank you," the priest said. "Your kindness is appreciated."

"Might as well be off then."

"Wait really?" I asked feeling utterly perplexed. "But…"

"Put your butts away, Beetle. There's nothing more we can do about it. Let's leave while we can." Then without a single word about it, John casually picked me up and set me on his shoulders turning away as if it were nothing. "If you're looking for somewhere safe to stay the night, there's an old town about a mile away. It has secure buildings and most of them are clear. You might be able to regain your bearings there."

"Wait, what's your name?" One of the women asked.

"Caliban."

Taking my cue for an alias from him, I followed suit on disguising my name. "And I'm Beetle."

Then we turned from the group and disappeared into the woods. I remained on his shoulders the entire way, resting my chin on his scalp as John walked on and thinking over the events. It was dark and I'm not sure how John was able to navigate through the forest but I didn't worry about it. I had far more pressing questions to think about.

"John, who was that man? Why did he want to kidnap everyone?"

"He was a monster—a magic user."

"Like a warlock?"

"Yes precisely."

"When he spoke, it was like he cast a spell over me. I _wanted_ to obey him."

"Yes, but you didn't. That surprised him very much."

"He said I wasn't human." I pressed my cheek against the top of his head. "Why would he say that?"

"Because you are not like many humans, Beetle. So, he had to rationalize why you refused him." His hand reached up and squeezed mine gently. "Do not take the words of a deranged monster to heart; they very rarely tell the truth. Trust me, you are every bit human as your kin is."

"Why did I want to obey him? Was it just another spell?"

"A certain sort of kind. He did something very evil to gain that power."

"What?"

"He cut out his own tongue and replaced it with the tongue of a siren."

"A siren? You mean those mermaid spirits in the odyssey? The ones that lured sailors to their doom?"

"Precisely."

"They exist?"

"Surely you're not so surprised to learn that those creatures would exist when it's been proven there are far more startling things you know to be true."

"…I guess." I pondered for another topic. "Was he going to eat all those people?"

"I believe so, and perhaps use them for other devious reasons."

"And he was going to sell me?"

His grip on my hand tightened a bit. "I would never have allowed it."

"But he's dead now right?"

"Yes."

The reality of those strange events seemed to set in just then. "I… I killed him."

John was quiet for a moment. "Does it bother you?"

"I don't know."

"Do not fret about such a thing, Beetle. Monsters of that like do not deserve your guilt. Put it out of your mind."

"Alright." I closed my eyes as he walked on thinking of the late hour. "My dad is going to kill me."

"Not likely. Perhaps he will have been occupied by another distraction and you will manage to slip back inside the walls unnoticed."

" _Yeah_ , and everyone had ice cream for dinner and they're all singing songs around a campfire." I laughed. As worried as I was about my father's looming explosion, the exhaustion I felt for the day's exertion had taken a lot out of me and I felt myself falling asleep right on his shoulders.

When next I woke up, it was in my own hammock in my room. Dad was shaking my shoulder gently like he hadn't even noticed I was gone and I gawked after him, still stunned how he had completely missed the fact that I had been missing for so long. I also marveled at John's own stealth. If he had managed to sneak over the fence with me in his arms, and additionally into my house and put me to bed, then I think I deeply underestimated his abilities of agility.

* * *

 _ **Present Day**_

My eyes opened and I looked up at the ceiling. That memory made me pause in consideration. I hadn't thought about that strange set of events in so long. Everything about that encounter had been bizarre and so surreal, like a dream I didn't even realize I had had.

Having John back was raising up more things I'd forgotten since his leaving. So many unanswered questions left to smolder in the back of my young seven-year-old brain.

Who was that creature that had said I wasn't human?

Was there truth to his accusation?

Was John the one that had lied that night?

What did I really know about my friend?

Well, whatever I did or didn't know hardly mattered. All I knew was that I loved John more than anything in this whole place and that I wanted to finally speak to him. If there was just a moment to talk and find out what had happened to him, maybe get a better explanation towards his abrupt departure.

Maybe just having that one small thing for me…

Maybe then the world would make sense again.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes: Wow, I can't believe I haven't updated since last year. Crazy, right? Took me a while to wrap my head around how this story would proceed. Truth be told I had only one line worked out for this chapter before I finally figured out how to make it proceed with what I wanted to do. I'm glad I was able to make it work, at least.**_

 _ **Still trying to figure out the next chapter in the meantime. I might not update again for a while. It just kind of feels like there's no one who really reads the story, so I might hang it up and work on some other projects instead.**_

 _ **I'm not abandoning it, but I don't know if I'm all that excited about it anymore. It just kind of feels like there isn't anything about it that seems exciting anymore.**_

 _ **I don't know, is anyone emotionally invested in this story all that much?**_


	59. Bittersweet Reunion

**Chapter 59  
Bittersweet Reunion**

I kept finding excuses to wander down to the detention level, hoping beyond hope that I would see my friend again. I wondered the grounds expecting that perhaps they had let him out where he would be put to work as they had said he would be, but for some reason I couldn't find him anywhere, until one day I turned a corner and saw him at last.

John Clare stood right before me, but I could tell with one look, I was not to go up to him but pretend we were complete strangers. I couldn't keep my eyes off him, though. No one could. John was different from others. So much different. With his shocking marbled skin, yellow eyes and the crooked winding scars on his face. To others he was a new intimidating stranger, but to me he was a shining ray of hope.

Negan was near when we came face to face at last and made his way over to me, once John had been herded away with several other workers to labor outside like I expected. Maybe Negan mistook my look of awe for appall like the rest of the people nearby and he leaned down knowingly.

"Tell me about it." He announced as if he believed he could read my thoughts. "Saved one of my guy's ass apparently. At first glance, they mistook him for a biter. Scary as hell, isn't he? Didn't want to be a Savior, but I get the feeling he'll be a real good worker. What do you think?"

A jolt of fury shot through me by those words but I tried to maintain the awed startled expression on my face. "I-I think…" But I didn't know what to say. The right words never came to me. "Why does he look like that?" I asked, trying to hide behind a question I already knew the answer to.

"Not sure. He wouldn't say. Why don't you ask him?"

My head bowed and I turned slightly. "I don't want to." I settled on before continuing with a curious sideways glance. "When he got here, what did he say?

"Not much of a talker unfortunately, but he said he'd been traveling alone for quite a while. Seems to be able to take care of himself pretty well. Bit of a loner is what I gathered. What do _you_ think of him?"

I glanced towards John's back with an expression I hoped looked frightened. It was best if Negan believed I wouldn't go near him. I could hear the wheels turning in that man's brain and knew what he was after. "I think… I think he's a killer." I settled on in a strained voice. "I think he's capable of anything."

It was a risky statement, but I felt Negan might've been looking for men just like what I described; people capable of anything, ergo someone he saw potential in. Even so, maybe my statement had just the effect to make Negan a little suspicious now. He'd probably want John watched for a while, just till he could make up his own opinion about him.

I, on the other hand, turned away, working hard to keep my expression stoic. Inside though, I was bursting with happiness. John was here and he was on my side. At long last, I had a friend here. John was here for me and as soon as there was an opportunity, he would contact me, I just had to be patient. But that was hard; so, freaking hard when all I wanted was to rush to him and throw my arms around his neck in pure joy.

Was he thinking that way about me? He looked so angry. But maybe that was just to keep up whatever front he was playing with the Saviors. I had to trust that John had a plan, and when he was ready, he would come to me.

* * *

 ** _Flashback  
_** It was brisk and chilly out today, but the sun still shone and it smelled nice and inviting inside the forest. An owl hooted somewhere in greeting and there were no walkers or dogs or wildmen anywhere I could sense. Plus, I was in a pretty good mood. John and I had found a lot of food the day before and deposited it at the gate, undetected, where it was distributed around town equally and fairly. It was a rare and pleasant time when I felt good about something, so I skipped the whole way to the island.

The house was empty when I got there, but I knew John would be back soon for our lesson. He never missed one after all. His absence seemed to inspire a devilish sort of idea to grow in my mind. So, I decided to play a friendly prank on my friend. Just like clockwork, John arrived at the cottage carrying what looked like a potted plant as he surveyed the room curiously in search for me.

"Beetle?"

When silence greeted him, he turned to leave, figuring he'd find me somewhere else. It was so thrilling to see how I was fooling him and the butterflies in my stomach flitted around me so much I couldn't manage to suppress the giggle that escaped.

John heard it and turned back to glance around, smirking as he suspected a surprise. "Beetle, I know you're _heeere_." He announced in a playful singsong tone. "Come on out. You know I can hear you."

When he was in position I leapt from the rafters, landing atop his shoulders.

"BEETLE BOMB!" I cried hugging him around his neck. My light weight didn't so much as shake him. He remained as grounded and as strong as ever even when I tried to take him off guard.

I leaned over his head, gazing into his eyes upside down. "I got you!"

"You got me." He confirmed, smiling up proudly.

"And now you're blind!" I covered his eyes in added triumph.

"Tiny hands…" John sighed putting the plant down on the table so he could reach around and pluck me from his shoulders. "My only weakness."

I seemed to take notice the particular plant he had today and glowed with excitement. "Ooh, a new tree. It's a bonsai willow!" Those trees were so hard to grow, and to find one in such good condition… it was unheard of. "How'd you get that?"

He smiled slyly. "How do _you_ think I got it?"

I paused at the thought then my eyes grew wide and sparked with imagination as a whole adventure sprang to life before me.

I recited a tale of John finding a secret garden, much like the island, only concealed inside a skyscraper. The tree was in the center of the marvelous garden and would grant magical powers that would stop pain and help people, which is why he needed it. When he tried to approach the tree, he met an old man who was actually a wizard that was evil. The wizard summoned a demon hoard that John had to battle. The first time the hoard threw him out a window, but he landed on a giraffe that caught him.

The giraffe offered him some valuable advice on how he could defeat the wizard and get the tree.

John took the advice and went back to face the wizard again. But the wizard had more tricks and the demon hoard fought John again and there were many times where it seemed like John would fail but each time he was able to push through by thinking and remembering that back home his Beetle was waiting for him to come back.

Finally, the giraffe came to the rescue again and with his help they defeated the hoard and wizard and finally claimed the tree that would help them. And John was able to return home where his Beetle was waiting for him.

John's face remained completely straight as he looked at me once my tale was complete. "Yes. That is exactly what happened."

"Wow really?"

"…No."

* * *

 ** _Present Day  
_** I spent days looking over my shoulder for my friend, needing to maintain the fright in my gaze. It was hard when all I wanted to do was smile in hope and longing and perhaps throw my arms around him.

When would he let me speak with him? I was aching in need of a friend so bad, especially when today was promised to be horrible.

Negan had called an assembly today and by the tone of it and the man bound to a chair at the center of the hall, it was not going to be good. I followed where Frankie told me to stand by her and the other wives, while the workers and lower Saviors stood on the other side of the court. There seemed to be some sort of invisible line that kept the higher ranks from mixing with lower members. Even with the line we all seemed to gather together around a bright and burning furnace of some sort where a few men were stoking the flames prudently. There was a man whose form was bowed and he looked to be sobbing while he was tied in a chair right in front of the furnace.

At the sight of it all, I had an uncomfortable feeling about what was going to happen.

Curiously, I searched the crowd, wondering if I could see John's face among them, but I wasn't able to find him.

Just then every single head turned to watch as Negan and his lieutenants entered the assembly, looking intimidating and displeased. At the sight of their masters everyone seemed to drop immediately to their knees in a bow. Everyone but me and surprisingly the wives as well.

Negan passed by his "family" and cast us all a disturbing glance, his eyes lingering on a woman who was on the brink of tears. Sherry attempted to comfort her but it seemed like they all knew what was about to happen. He turned and faced the assembly, his voice carried up through the echoing rafters as he indicated to the sobbing man in the chair.

"This man, Dear Matt, did a very bad thing. What you are all about to witness is going to be unpleasant. It doesn't have to be, it doesn't even have to happen. Fucking hell I wish it wouldn't. I wish I could just let this slide. Ignore the rules. But I can't. Why?"

And in answer every single person, aside from me, immediately responded with, "THE RULES KEEP US ALIVE!"

I looked around, stunned by the display as Negan continued.

"That's right. We survive, we provide security for others, we bring civilization back to the world—we're the Saviors. And we can't do that without rules. The rules are what makes everything work." He turned towards the furnace and donned a protective leather glove. Another man reached deep into the fire with a pole and retracted a glowing metal item. It glowed so hot that I at first didn't quite make out what the shape of it was. An old-fashioned iron, made entirely out of metal and glowing white with the heat from the flames.

With the revelation I suddenly understood what was about to happen.

"As you know, wondering the wilds is dangerous. Leaving the Sanctuary puts us all at great risk, especially when you do it alone. If the wrong sort of fuckers found out where our base is, they could descend on us and kill every last person behind our walls. Every man, lady and kid would be at risk. Matt wanted to leave, he wanted to convince one of my wives, his little sister, to come away with him. But Sierra had the good sense to warn me before he did anything stupid. If there was something wrong maybe you should have come to talk to me about it, Matt? But since you didn't, I'm now forced to do this, and I have to make sure everyone sees. Why?"

"THE RULES KEEP US ALIVE!" Everyone responded instantly.

"Some people think things aren't fair here. Maybe things can get a bit extreme, but there's a system to it, and if you live by that system, understand it, and respect it, then things will be okay for you. But it comes with a price… and there are penalties when you don't want to pay that price. But pay it, we must!" The he lowered right next to the man's face, whispering right to him, so that only he, and people with very good hearing, would know what he said. "Sorry, Matt. It is, what it is."

And with that, the burning iron was pushed into the side of his face.

The man's screams filled the rafters, nearly shaking the whole building as the heat bit into his face.

The sight was terrible, but worst was the smell of it. I wanted to wretch at the horror of it or turn away in rising disgust, but something kept my eyes on it, while I stood there. As horrified as I was, it was also fascinating in a sickening putrid sort of way. As much as I wanted to, I wasn't able to turn from the sight. When it was all through, Negan pulled the iron from his face and I nearly vomited when globs of the man's own flesh stuck and sizzled right against the red-hot metal. He wasn't in the least bit disturbed by it and set the iron on the stone, removing the protective glove. He regarded the man in the chair, who'd lost consciousness and control of his bladder during the ordeal.

With a scoff of aversion, he turned away. "Pissed himself. _Pussy_." Then he looked to the rest of the crowd. "This matter is settled. All is forgiven. Mark will forever bear the shame of his actions on his face, all will know what he's done. I hope that we have all learned something today. Because I really don't fucking want to do that shit ever again!"

Every time I thought Negan couldn't get worse, he surprised me once more. There really were no limits to his repugnance. He must have seen my expression because he came up to me and bore down, speaking in a hush while he smiled maliciously.

"I bet you think I'm a complete lunatic."

My face rearranged into something stoic while I looked up at him, a clear challenge in my voice. "Monsters will do monstrous things. I'm far more disgusted than surprised anymore."

The smile dropped from his face. With nothing to respond to my statement he only turned away. The crowd dispersed at that time and two men dragged Matt away so the doctor could attend to him. Just as I was about to go about my business, I felt movement behind me and something was tucked into my opened hand. Startled, I looked around just in time to watch a little kid dodging away without so much as a single word or explanation. I glanced down at the object, catching sight of the thing he'd given me.

A note fastened closed with a wax seal. Imprinted in the dried wax was a circle with a winding stitch through the middle of it and I knew with one glance whom it was from. My eyes searched the room as people began to disperse with the show of punishment over now.

I caught a brief glimpse of John's back as he exited through a door at the far end. He didn't look my way or seemed to even acknowledge me, but I knew what this was. I pocketed the note and walked away waiting till I was alone in a hallway to open the message. The familiar formal scroll of John's calligraphy greeted me as I looked down at the four brief words.

 **Flooded closet. Third floor.**

It didn't say what time, so I assumed it meant now. Without waiting, I climbed the stairs to the third floor following the path of the hallways until my feet stepped in water. It seemed I was headed in the right direction so I followed the path until the water submerged up to my ankles and my boots were leaking.

Just then, I heard voices of three men not far off and pressed against a corner, staying quiet while they spoke.

"Look at this mess! Goddamned pipe had to burst out of nowhere!"

"We'll need to close the hall off for a while until we can find someone who used to be a plumber to sort this all out."

"Old fucking pipes…"

I had a feeling the pipe bursting from out of nowhere had been no coincidence today. The moment they were gone I waded through the water and looked up to see a sign that said **Broom Closet** on a rusted old door at the end of the hallway.

I slipped inside, double checking to be sure the coast was indeed clear. I backed inside and ran into something solid.

Just as I had hoped, John stood right before me, a tower of comfort and protection. My eyes burned from the mere sight of him and I choked. At last I was allowed to throw my arms around him in the privacy of the small compartment. He lifted me in his arms, holding me close as I buried my face in his shoulder.

In that moment, all the rage and pain and fear and desperation I had been feeling since I arrived here—everything that had happened since his departure those years ago, came pouring out of me in huge unfiltered sobs. Ever since he had left there was a piece of me he took away with him and a loneliness that engulfed me grew up from that missing hole.

"John! John! John!" I cried with unfiltered joy and relief. "I-I missed you… s-so m-much!"

"Oh, my little Beetle, I missed you, too." He responded back with the same joy. Then he leaned back to gage the state I was in. I wondered how I may have looked to him. Was I ashy and pale? Did I look thinner than when he remembered me? Was the light in my eyes gone? Had there ever been light?

He pressed a hand to my cheek as he gazed at me sadly. "What has happened to you?"

The tears cascaded down more profoundly by those sweet, tender words and I couldn't answer him for some reason. The thought of all that had happened since he left had a powerful, painful impact on me. I just didn't think I could talk about it. Instead, I responded with a question of my own. "Why did you leave me? Tell me again. I can't remember."

"Neither can I," He whispered softly, holding me tighter. "I'm so sorry, Judith. I should have protected you."

"D-don't leave me again, John. Please." I begged pathetically, gripping his coat. "I c-can't do it again. I can't stand to watch you go. Promise you won't leave me."

"I will not leave you again. I promise, Beetle."

I sobbed a bit more, so many emotions rolling through me that I couldn't focus on a single one individually. Happiness and helplessness raged side by side and it was quite a while before I was able to calm down enough to speak coherently again. And that whole time John did nothing but hold me close to him, letting me cry for as long as I needed. And when the tears were used up, he kept his hold on me even after there was nothing left but numbness.

Eventually though, he decided to sit, and even after he found a seat on an old worn out bucket his hold on me remained.

"It's okay now, Beetle." He said to me oh so gently. "We'll make it right."

The kindness radiating from him was almost painful for a small part of me sort of thought I didn't deserve it. Now I believed I understood mildly of how Daryl had felt when I attempted to embrace him that first time. After a long moment, I spoke once more. "How did you find me? What made you come back?"

He sighed wearily. "I had a strange dream—a very strange frightful dream. I saw you working tirelessly in the forest. A crown of flowers was on your head and a dog was by your side, and you seemed very content. Suddenly the day grew dark and a pit opened up right from under you. You didn't fall right away but seemed to hover like a giant fan was under you, keeping you leveled. I tried to run to you, to take your hand and bring you to solid ground but you were swallowed up before I could reach you. It seemed to be some kind of reoccurring nightmare; different scenarios of you laboring carelessly until that same pit opened from under you to swallow you whole. It hung over me for such a long time, that eventually I couldn't ignore it. I just felt there was something deeply wrong and that you were in danger. I couldn't simply do nothing."

"Did you go to Alexandria?"

"I did. I met your brother and your friend Enid when they were in the woods. They were wisely cautious of me but I told them I was looking for you and that we were old friends."

"John, that was dangerous. You know how edgy my people are among strangers."

"I know, but I somehow felt those two may have been more accepting than others."

"What did they say?"

"I asked them where you were and told them things about you only they would know and to prove I was a friend I told them about the island. Once I gained their trust they told me you'd been taken by these… _people_." He spat the word like throwing something disgusting away. "I came to join them as soon as I heard. I'm sorry for the deceit."

"No, I'm happy you're here." And I rested my head against his chest where I could listen to the strange mechanical tick of his clockwork heart. "I'm so happy to see you again, John. I _never_ thought I'd see you again."

"I didn't think I'd see you again either, Little Beetle."

I smiled at the sound of his nick name for me. It was so wonderful to hear it spoken in his voice again. "I missed that. I missed being your Beetle."

He held me closer and we stayed like that for a long moment, merely hugging each other.

"How did you find this place?"

"It was easy. I followed one of their scouting groups. They got swarmed all of a sudden and one of them had a broken leg. While the rest of his group ran to save their own lives, I stopped to help him and killed the other bodies before they devoured him. I swung him over my shoulder and bolted out of the herd while he was delusional from the pain. I found shelter in an abandoned house and when he became lucid enough, he gave me directions on how to reach their so-called Sanctuary so I could bring him back for the doctor. None of them knew who I was, but they can't let me go since I know where their base is, along with the cure they've hoarded here."

He sighed again that day, looking at me apologetically because he must have heard by now. "I'm so sorry. I should have been with you. This never would have happened if I had stayed."

"Please don't blame yourself, John. You didn't attack or kidnap me. None of this was your fault, so don't feel guilty for any of it. You didn't even have to come back for me, but you did. I mean, we haven't seen each other for two years and we only knew one another for those few months. And I'm not the same person I was when you knew me. You didn't have to risk so much at all. So… I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but…" My voice was shaky as I found sudden interest in a stain in a corner of the wall while more tears pooled around my eyes. "Why would you do all this for me?"

He lifted my face up and gently tucked my hair behind my ear, holding a fond smile as his yellow eyes ran over my face. "Because I believe you are person who deserves to be helped."

My head bowed and more tears fell on my lap. "I don't know how I can repay you."

"You don't have to pay me back. You don't owe me a debt, Judith. I will do this because I care about you, just as everything you do is for someone you care about. You are not the only one who tries to be selfless at times."

I leaned back against his chest, feeling safer with his arms over me. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget. I haven't met many selfless people in this place."

"It seems the trait is rather endangered. I will do all I can for you, but you must never contact me, understand? I was afraid you would give me away when you saw me, but you've gotten even cleverer since the last we spoke together."

"It was pretty hard." I admitted. "When I saw you, all I wanted to do was run and hug you right away. You have no idea how much I need a friend on my side right now. I'm so, so happy you're with me."

"Then it pains me that I stopped you. That would have certainly cheered me after the journey I've endured. Though, I am proud of you for the restraint." He paused just then as he seemed to listen for something I couldn't detect. "I feel we've stayed for too long. I wish we had more time to catch up but it doesn't seem as though that will be the best idea. Continue to appear frightened of me, Judith. It will ward away suspicion. In the meantime, I must ask you to trust me. I have formulated a plan. I can't tell you what it all entails, that will take too long, but believe me when I say I will do my best to get you out of here and strike down that horrendous monster that has ensnared you. But I must cripple these people so that none like him can rise to take his place when I do."

My brow lowered with determination. "I trust you, John. But…"

"What, Beetle?"

I looked up at him with large imploring eyes. "Is there a way you could… help my Uncle Daryl? He's a prisoner here too. They parade him around like a slave and he wears a sweat suit with a big letter A on the front. He's been here for so long and he's had to stay here while the rest of us have forgotten about him back home. Please just… even if you can't help me, help him. Help him escape."

He paused as he thought it over. "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

"Just a minute," I tugged on his sleeve, considering something just then. I couldn't even imagine what kind of damage his mind had been put through in this place and it only occurred to me then that he might not trust John if he tried to set him free, so I tried to think of something personal to promote his good faith in John's aid. "He might not trust you if you try to set him free. He might think it's a trick, so if you could tell him that L'lil Ass-Kicker sent you and that I don't blame him and that… that my aim is much better since I was four and I think he'd be proud. I'm sure he'll know what it means and that he'll be able to trust you for that."

John put a hand on my shoulder and smiled proudly with my foresight. "I will do all I can." Then he leaned forward and kissed me once on the forehead as he had done once long ago, when he left me the first time.

"I will go first, Little Beetle. Wait ten minutes and then follow. If any press you about where you were…"

"Don't worry," I finished for him assertively. "I'll think of something good. I always do."

He tucked my hair once more behind my ear and smiled. "If I must contact you again, I will send a bird to your window. There will be writing, merely gibberish though. The true message will be invisible of which you can read with juice and heat, to avoid suspicion."

"So, the ravens are with you, too?"

"They follow me everywhere, as you recall. Everyone needs their flock, after all."

"I hope you can be part of mine after all this."

He paused for a moment to consider my words. Was it possible that maybe, just maybe he would consider it this time. "I will think on it. Perhaps, it may finally be time."

"You'll be with me, so it'll be okay, right?"

He smiled. "Yes… perhaps it will."

Before he got up, I leaned forward and embraced him once more. "I love you, John. Thank you so much."

I felt him stiffen slightly as he took in my words, almost like he was shocked I would say something like that. And then finally he returned my frail hold, hugging me securely.

"Oh… I love you, too, Beetle."

Then he stood and slipped out the door. As he instructed, I waited ten minutes before exiting after, sloshing through the water. An enormous burst of hope was in my chest and excited little butterflies flew around my stomach. I felt like a kid in John's presence—a real kid. There was no need to pretend to be brave or strong around him. He knew me like no one else did. He saw me for all my flaws and weaknesses but still knew who I really was. I didn't have to stress to impress him with feats of strength, stubbornness, or intelligence. He had known me since I was small, so small and had taught and guided me through nearly everything.

If there was only one person in the world I could trust completely, it was John.

* * *

 **Author's Notes: So, I was a little inspired by Steven Universe for the fluffy little flashback of John and Judith playing pranks on each other. I wanted their relationship to be filled with lightheartedness and fun.**

 **There were a few people that had some questions about the story to which I will answer now:**

 _ **Casualreader: "This makes me want to learn how to use tarot cards, do you use them?"**_

 **I don't use them (though I'd really like to get my own deck or even design my own cards), but I've done research on them and I've read a few books on the different meanings. It's really interesting. For legit fortune tellers you actually need to be born with the gift. I've gone to psychics in the past who have read my fortune to me with the cards as well as read my palm and, I kid you not, there's some serious talent you've got to be born with in order to get that much of my life right!**

 _ **Guest: "So does Negan want to be Judith's dad or something?"**_

 **Negan wants to have a family very badly, but there's some stuff going on behind the curtain that is preventing him from achieving that and it's causing a lot of frustration for him. He's got multiple wives after all and was very clearly disappointment when he found out Sherry wasn't pregnant. He has a picture in his mind of what he wants in his hypothetical children to be like, but since he isn't having any luck he's turned to the next alternative. In his heart he knows that Judith isn't ever going to think of him like that, but if she ever were to get past her disgust of him, he'd like a platonic child/guardian relationship with her. I think since he came from a teaching background, the thought of raising and looking after kids has always appealed to him (he wouldn't have been a gym teacher if it hadn't after all).**

 **I think if Judith didn't have Rick, like if she were an orphan or something, Negan would have adopted her or I guess taken her under his wing, as he's sort of trying to do, and it would have been easier to raise her his way and not have to worry so much about outsiders influencing her so much.**

 **I'll explore his feelings about that more in further chapters, but for now this is all I can really tell you.**

 _ **Guest: "What is Judith? Plz update!"**_

 **All in good time, my friend! ;)**


	60. Through an Inferno

**Chapter 60  
Through an Inferno**

It happened one day when I was rounding a corner on the same floor of the broken pipe when I just about collided with someone I hadn't expected to see.

"Daryl!"

The moment he'd caught sight of me he switched directions instantly, almost like he was trying to run away. But I wouldn't let him. As I studied the sight, I saw a mop in his hands and a bucket at his feet. It looked as if he had been ordered to clean the mess of water from the broken pipes John had damaged in order to obtain the brief moment of privacy with me.

I wasn't sure where Dwight, his work-driver, was at the moment and I didn't care. There was no one else in the halls with us and I couldn't allow this opportunity to slip away from me.

It was the first I had seen him in over a month. I wanted—no needed to know how he was. "I found you! I thought I wasn't going to see you again." I wondered if he would allow me to embrace him, but he flinched at the sound of my voice so I assumed perhaps he needed some space.

As I stared back at him expectantly, the man himself wouldn't turn to me. His back remained as all I could see of him and I had to lean around to gage his expression as he slumped in defeat.

"Ya shouldn't be talkin' to me." He said wearily.

"I don't care about that." I announced, disregarding any sort of penalty implied by conversing with him. "I want to know about _you_. I want to know if you're alright."

Daryl seemed to flinch with those words. I saw his grip on the mop handle tighten and his knuckles turn white as he repressed a shiver.

"Don't… don't worry about me. Just think about yourself."

"I'm tired of that. I want to think about you now. I want to help you."

"Why?" The word struggled out of him and as I glanced around his back, I caught a glimpse of his expression and saw it was unhinged, like a hoard of terrible thoughts and memories were attacking him together. "Why do you care what happens to me? Why do you—after what I did to you?"

He was talking about the beating.

"That wasn't you!" I rationalized for him. "You weren't the one that wanted that to happen. You weren't the one that hurt me."

"But I did. I did hurt you. I hurt you so bad. I hit you over and over again, and then I heard it pop right from the socket. You should hate me."

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

His eyes looked back at me and I could see beneath the bags of sleepless nights and stress-filled days that he somehow couldn't grasp how or why I would ever choose to forgive him. "Why? After what I did to you—why don't you hate me?"

"Because you are my uncle, Daryl Dixon." I told him firmly. "You are my family and my responsibility and you get the perks that come along with that. I'm going to take care of you from now on."

From across the hall I saw Dwight rounding the opposite corner. I saw his brow lower in anger as he marched towards us, but I dodged away before he could say a word about reprimanding me or him for the encounter.

John had promised that he would get Daryl out of here. Even if he couldn't help me, I had made him promise to help my uncle. Tonight, he would keep that promise. I wasn't going to let him spend one more day in this place.

* * *

I arrived at the mess hall, searching the crowd for where my friend may have been and spotted him sitting down at a table with a bowl of broth. I was just about to approach him when he seemed to sense my presence and his gaze snapped up, pinning me with an expression I'd never seen on him. He looked so fierce and angry. He had never looked at me like that. Not ever.

Skidding to a stop, I remembered I wasn't supposed to approach him, and especially not so out in public. His gaze was certainly enough to go on about that. Feeling defeated, I turned to the line of people waiting their own turn to receive lunch and stood there among them, trying to ignore the curious glances I got from them as the red cloak identified me to all.

In my mind, if I couldn't approach John then perhaps I could hint that I needed to speak to him, and he would have to find a secure place for us to have a conversation. I wasn't going to leave him alone until we'd both found a way to break Daryl out of here. Even if it meant I had to stay here forever, Daryl wasn't going to rot away with me.

I decided to sit two tables from where John sat, keeping my gaze on him even while he'd turned his own down to concentrate solely on his food. With my eyes on him I noticed three Saviors approach him from behind.

It didn't seem as though John was in the talkative mood with any of them, and judging by the completely empty table, it didn't seem as though he'd made many friends since arriving here. They were obviously looking to pick a fight, but the stranger refused to take the bait. Though I could tell from the tenseness he sat with, it was taking all his self-restraint not to tear the men apart.

Even if it'd been years, I still knew how strong John was. Once I had watched him chop wood and had witnessed him tear a whole log in equal halves with nothing but his bare hands. Another time when we were surrounded by a rival pack of wild dogs, he'd fought off the pack singlehandedly with moves I'd never seen anyone possess in my entire life. He looked like a kung fu beast master while doing it.

John was the strongest person alive and these men were three idiots who couldn't tell the cave bear they were kicking.

"So, John, was it?" The savior prodded him. "What's your story?"

"Highwayman." He said plainly with no further elaboration than that.

"How long have you been out on your own?"

"Not long enough."

"You scary as fuck." One of them commented. "How'd you get your eyes that way?"

"Mutation." He muttered, biting into his food.

"Where'd ya get that scar?"

"Birthmark."

I wanted to snort. As much as they tried to bait him, he wouldn't bite, but they sure weren't about to give up.

"You know, I think this freak thinks he's tough shit." One of them leered. His hand stretched out and touched the leather hood of John's trench coat. "I like that coat you got on. Bet I'd look like a real badass with a coat like that. And I don't think you've earned enough points to be wearing something that nice." He shoved John and now I was fully interested along with several others in surrounding tables. "Take it off, asshole."

I knew with one look at the way John's shoulders tensed, the man was in for a world of regret with that move.

"Oh, you poor dumb Savior." I chuckled under my breath. I ate my food like popcorn, watching as John rose slowly to his feet and towered over the man. With that single move, I could tell the man was steadily beginning to regret his mistake.

But it seemed they sure didn't learn fast as one of them pulled a gun. Like a flash of lightning, John moved into action. It was so fast, if I had blinked, I would have missed it all.

John's fist smashed against the man's jaw before he'd even completely withdrawn the weapon. In one punch, the guy nosedived to the floor and didn't get up again. The others moved when their companion fell, but John gripped the sides of the heavy picnic table and toppled it with one heave. Bowls and food flew everywhere and the men on the opposite side of the table were pinned in an instant when John stepped up on it. Before he'd turned it upside-down, John had grabbed his bowl and was now using it as a bludgeoning weapon sailing it straight into the face of one, catching it as it ricochet back, and smashing it over another.

In a single moment, all eyes had turned to John and the tousle. The commotion had sparked new life from the surrounding Saviors. Some of them didn't seem eager to interfere though not for lack of bravery. Entertainment was hard to come by for them and watching a good fight was something to savor whenever they could.

That was until several more Saviors tried to get involved and John tossed them away like throwing out garbage.

My heart leapt in my throat at the sight of it and the look on John's face. He looked utterly unhinged, like some wild beast that had been prodded one too many times by a scrutinizing, judgmental crowd. He reminded me of a big cat—like a tiger that had been kept too long in the confines of a cramped cage and his patience had at last been worn thin.

This was serious.

Now I could understand a bit of why John preferred being a hermit compared to interacting with living people. No one could control him. More Saviors tried to get into it and hold him back but he was having none of it. His yellow eyes looked back at everyone like the enemies they were.

That was when a deafening blast cut through all the chaos and everything was still at last.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!"

My eyes followed Negan as he passed off a smoking rifle to one of his men, no doubt the same tool that he'd used to restore order once more. He cut through the crowd to make his way towards the center of commotion. By the time he reached John, he seemed to have regained his control over himself and had put his hands up, lowering to his knees in surrender, demonstrating that he would put up no fight.

"What the hell is this about? You the one tearing up the fucking place?"

John didn't answer, only pinned Negan with his untamed yellow gaze. Negan seemed to draw back a bit by it, but it was so concealed that only someone who conversed with him on a daily basis could ever tell. Then he snapped at one of the men on the ground. "Chuck, what the fuck went on here?"

Chuck spat out a mouthful of blood and held his side. "Maniac, went berserk for no fucking reason at all. Guy up and hulked out on everyone."

Only two of them could confirm his side since the majority of the rest were all either unconscious or in too much pain to add anything.

Just then the head work driver popped up and handed Negan a file, which I assumed was John's.

Negan looked down at John who met his gaze without flinching. "What was your name again? John something? John Clare? Pansy-ass name! Why does it sound so familiar? Eh whatever. Alrighty John. Been here for two weeks and you're already tearing up the place. We don't really have room for some freak ruffian, but I've been told you do some pretty heavy lifting with the work crew." He flipped through the pages. "No complaints, no comments, speaks in one word sentences, refuses to go into detail about the time before you arrived here. Hmm… doesn't seem like there's a whole lot going on upstairs, if you understand my meaning."

I glared by that. Negan was so stupid. John was one of the smartest people ever. He was just a damn good actor; the product of years of working with theatre troupes, circus shows, museums, liars and criminals.

Negan just went on. "Background history: mortician— _eh creepy_. Been on your own for most of the time… no other comments from you." He looked back down at John and tossed the file back to the work driver. "You've obviously had it rough, pal. Not going to talk about what all you've endured out there and there's no one here forcing you to. Got some pretty heavy psychological damage in that skull and I predict you haven't had much socializing with people in a long while so I'll go easy on you this one time."

I wanted to laugh. Oh, Negan was going to go _easy_ on him, was he? Negan wasn't the one going "easy" with anyone. John was going easy on him. In one move, John could probably tear those men apart and squash Negan like a bug. Kinda made me wonder why he didn't.

Negan's voice lowered. "But the next time you cause a fucking riot in my place again you sure as fuck won't have a good side of your face left."

"What do we do about him in the meantime?" One of his men asked.

"Solitary. Three days."

They dragged John away and I had to school my features for when Negan's eyes caught me watching it all. Just then I started to chuckle and his brow cocked in confusion.

"Something funny, Judy?"

I looked up at him with a devious smirk across my face.

"They sure are the pride of the Sanctuary." I jeered to him, indicating the fallen men who were slowly picking themselves off the ground. "No brains, no bronze, and no balls now. Thought they'd kick a sleeping giant and got their bones ground into bread. _Pussies_. You should add some intelligence tests to their training curriculum sometime. Woops did I say training? Sorry, I guess I mistook them for soldiers for a moment."

"Well you're apparently the expert on soldiers, aren't you, Judy?"

"I do try to be a jack of all trades after all."

"Shouldn't something be sucking your blood out right now? You don't get paid to sit around."

"Uh actually, I do. At least I'm useful when I sit around."

"Keep it up and I'll find worse uses for you." He sneered, walking away abruptly so he'd have the last word on it.

Once he was gone, I discarded my tray of dishes and wondered down to the detention level, avoiding the guards the best I was able to.

With the deserted corridor surrounding me, I found the cell John had been thrown in on the first day. I pressed my hand to it, knowing he knew I was there.

"We're getting my uncle out of here." I told him lowly. "I don't care how we do it, but I don't want him stuck here another day. Leave me behind if you have to, but get him out. Please."

I heard a bang on the other end of the corridor and shuffled towards the opposite end before I was spotted by anyone. In my heart I hoped John had a plan for how he could achieve that. There were three days of solitary confinement he'd be sentenced to. If that could buy him some time then I prayed he'd be able to use it wisely.

* * *

Later that night, I was woken up from out of nowhere when I heard a loud commotion. Loud and frantic shouting was coming from both outside the hallway and my window. As I shifted out from under the bed, I looked towards the band across the ceiling to see a dull orange glow illuminating the dark sky. Smoke rose with it and I realized instantly that something was on fire.

Just then the door flew opened and my new guard burst inside.

"Good you're up!" She announced heatedly. "Come on! I have to take you to the wives' room."

"What happening?" I ask with rising fear.

"Never mind, just come on!"

I obeyed without another word following her out in noting but pajamas. I arrived at the loungeroom where the wives were all awake, dressed in robes and nightgowns and talking hastily with one another about what was going on outside.

"Are we being attacked?"

"I know there's a fire in one of the warehouses."

"Tyler told me a part of the gate was knocked down. A few rotters got in."

Just as I started to sit down on the couch the doctor burst in and looked directly at me. "You, come on! I need you right now."

Someone must have gotten bit then. I followed him out with two other guards including my own leading the way. I hadn't even noticed it before, but she was carrying a rifle and brandishing it around every corner carefully, as if she expected someone or something to pop out and attack them. Her movements set me on edge.

The infirmary had three people lied out on the beds. There was a woman with a cast on her arm and another with a bandage over her ear. One the last bed was a man with an open wound where teeth marks were over his shoulder. I correctly assumed he would be the one I'd be donating to. Without skipping a beat, I sat on my usual bed and allowed the doctor to get to work with the machine.

As the exhaustion just about overwhelmed me, I tried to focus on the conversations near the other beds.

"I heard they got the fire under control. Some of the beams from the warehouse collapsed and took down the fence. Attracted a bunch of walkers."

"The whole place is in an uproar, people thought we were being attacked at first."

"Are we?"

"No. They're investigating the cause of the fire, but they don't think it was intentional. Some idiot probably found some smokes and didn't smother theirs out correctly."

"Negan's gunna burn a straight up hole in their skull if he finds that asshole."

"How much did we lose?"

"We were able to save most of everything, but a lot of the booze is gone. Good thing we've got the other warehouses."

I couldn't catch more of it as the exhaustion from the donation as well as the lateness of the hour hit me full force and sent me swirling into unconsciousness.

* * *

When I woke up late the next day, my mouth was dry and I was severely dehydrated. There was water on the side table and I drank it eagerly. Despite my dazed and dizzy state of mind I had enough assemblance to check the beds to see if the prior night's occupants were still there.

They weren't.

My eyes swept the room for the doctor but he wasn't there either, so I strained my ears to detect anything outside the room. The muffled sound of a radio was heard on the other end but I couldn't make out what was being said. The response from whom I recognized as my guard was strained and rather frantic sounding.

Curiously, I tilted my head wondering what else had gone on during the disaster last night, but the doctor entered right then with his ever-present clipboard. He was pleased to see me awake and urged me to drink more water while he called for some food to be brought. Almost instantly someone was through the door with a plate of vegetables and a scrambled egg sandwich.

I ate with no complaints and slowly my strength began to return to me, making my mind somewhat clearer to focus in on the movements and talking around me.

"What happened last night?" I asked curiously.

"Just a fire." The doctor told me tersely. There was something hidden behind his words like something more than just a fire happened. I was sure there was more, but I resisted asking, noting his tone that it was all he would say about it.

After a brief exam he called for the woman to take me back to the room.

I tried to get more out of her, ignoring my reluctance to have any sort of interaction between us, but it didn't prove much useful either. Her answer was the same as the doctor's.

Once back in the room I lied out on the bed, exhausted from the brief walk despite the food they'd given me. I hadn't even realized I dozed off for a while until someone was knocking on the door. I sat up and watched my guard come in with a new tray of food.

"Lunchtime." She announced.

I pulled up a seat at the table and began picking at the plate of fried fish and chips. When I was done I moved towards the door, but my guard stopped me.

"Negan wants you to stay in the room today."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter why. He doesn't need a reason. You're staying in your room today."

"Is it cause of the fire last night? Was there an attack or something? What is going on?" I hated being deliberately left out of the loop and being stuck in the room again was not something I wanted to do.

"There's an investigation going on and you don't need to be in the way."

"Could you just tell me what's going on? It'd be nice if I should be expecting anyone to attack me around a corner, that way I can at least prepare a little for it."

"No one's going to attack you."

"Really? How do you know?"

I continued to badger her about it until she finally told me, someone could have infiltrated the Sanctuary using the fire as a distraction. When I asked why she thought that she told me, probably unintentionally that they had noticed there were a few… _things_ missing this morning. I couldn't get any more out of her after that but I suddenly had a wild hope that John may have done precisely as I asked and got Daryl out of here for good.

No doubt there was a huge search underway to find him and drag him back here, which would explain why they wanted me out of the way. For the moment they were keeping quiet, to avoid letting me know he was gone. They still intended to use him to threaten me with and if I let on that I suspected he was gone they might've decided to return to Alexandria to get a new hostage. Of course, the whole town was more or less being held hostage already, but at least they weren't at the Sanctuary where they could be tormented twenty-four seven the way Daryl had been.

Right now, they were safe and now so was Daryl.

My mind worked to wonder where John might've hid him. The island was the obvious answer. It was the only place John was welcomed and it was near Alexandria, if out of sight at least. Dad and Carl would help him in whatever ways they could and once Daryl had regained his strength and a bit of his mental stability, he'd be allowed more freedom. Of course, he couldn't go back home, that was a no-brainer. After this escape, Negan might just employ watchdogs to keep an eye out for him and bring him back if he's stupid enough to arrive there. And if that happened…

I didn't want to think about the repercussions of that. No doubt Negan would make each and every one of us pay for even thinking he could successfully be free and he'd make sure we thought it was our fault in every form of the word.

* * *

 _ **Author's Notes:**_ _ **Okay so it's been a while since I posted (cough, cough five months).**_

 _ **I know, I know, but like I said in the previous chapter I've been thinking about working on some other projects and since summer is more or less here, I've got other things going on: farmers market (I've got a rock painting stand that I am very proud of), my sister's bridal shower, bachelorette party and wedding to help plan, work (2 jobs), I'm looking for a new roommate again, and about a million other things that occupy a lot of my time. Sorry if this story has taken a bit of a backseat. I've also rediscovered my love for Undertale, great game by the way even if I haven't played it myself (I watch the playthroughs) I especially love all the different AUs and I'm currently stuck in a mobfell fanfiction that's taking almost as long to update as my own fic did.**_

 _ **But I hope this chapter has at least satisfied you guys for a while until I figure out a way to continue the story without getting myself stuck in another endless writer's block.**_


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